


LOVERBOY

by dawons



Category: SF9 (Band)
Genre: A lot of references to Kagerou Project/DetroitBecomeHuman, AI Baek Juho | Zuho, AIs, All ships main ships, Android Lee Sanghyuk | Dawon, Androids, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Assassins & Hitmen, Bar fights, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drug Abuse, Drug Boss Kang Chanhee | Chani, Drug Use, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Heavy Angst, Hitman Yoo Taeyang, Intern Lee Jaeyoon, Juho based on ENE (Kagerou Project), Kim Seokwoo | Rowoon just kinda vibing, Kim Youngkyun | Hwiyoung also just vibing, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mind Games, Minor Original Character(s) for plot purposes, Missing Persons, Multi, Murder, Past Violence, Private Investigator Kim Youngbin, Security Guard Kim Inseong, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Shooting, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:46:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 42,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23443432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawons/pseuds/dawons
Summary: Sanghyuk reaches down to gently rub his ankles, idly looking to Inseong as he does so. “Why are you helping me?” He questions softly, eyes full of questions that Inseong doesn’t know he has the answers to.“Because you look like you need it.”---“Do you have a name?”“You can call me Juho if you’d like.” The other’s tone is back to normal, and Seokwoo can’t get over how natural it sounds. It’s like he’s on the phone with somebody. Somebody that really exists and isn't a hyper real program that reacts to everything Seokwoo says or does.---Something feels wrong.Chanhee doesn't understand why he feels so nervous, but even though Taeyang's protective arms hold him close, he's afraid."Goodnight."
Relationships: Baek Juho | Zuho/Kim Seokwoo | Rowoon, Kang Chanhee | Chani/Yoo Taeyang, Kim Inseong/Lee Sanghyuk | Dawon
Comments: 7
Kudos: 31





	1. jaws on the floor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work contains dark elements. Reader discretion is advised.

The possibility of drowning is the only thing that makes Inseong unscrew his eyes and sit up further, water washing over his head as it breaks the surface. He still tastes blood faintly on his lips when he licks them, and feels a burning sensation behind his skin underneath his nose and on his cheek. He vaguely remembers the man laying him out in front of the bar, but thinking back on it makes the pain in his head throb further, so he tries his best to forget about it entirely. 

At least he’d gotten the rest of work off for the Summer Exhibition, he supposes. He lays back in the bathtub further, the music blaring from his phone jarring when it shifts from a quiet instrumental to a hard rock cover he’d downloaded earlier that day. He sighs, shaking his head slightly before sinking down lower. The water circles his face, and he forces his head underneath it once again before pulling it back up, taking a small breath in before brushing his hair back with a hand, his fingers slipping through the soaked and thoroughly washed strands effortlessly.

It’s late; maybe two in the morning, Inseong isn’t sure what the exact time is. He just remembers checking his phone when he’d gotten home after being released from work early, seeing a blinding 1:05AM lighting up his screen viciously. It had been roughly an hour, if he were to guess, that he’d spent in the scalding water to attempt to calm his tensed muscles. 

He isn’t even sure _why_ his boss had wanted to station him in front of the bar that night. He wasn’t nearly strong enough to defend himself if somebody, let alone somebody who was under the influence, chose to get violent for not being allowed inside (which is exactly what he’d encountered that night). He supposes they just wanted someone new to test a lower piece of tech they’d recently coined; contacts that displayed the information of anybody the user made eye contact with next to their head. Name, age, sex, and anything else the user chose to program into the contacts would appear in bright neon letters, easy to read for optimal data recovery. For Inseong, his boss had programmed in another line to show blood alcohol content, and told him to turn away anybody who was considered legally intoxicated. 

Inseong didn’t even look tough. His soft, pretty pink hair and slender build made him look everything _but_ violent. He appeared completely innocent, and the man who he’d turned away saw that instantly. Inseong remembers standing nervously before he blinked, and he woke back up on the pavement in a puddle of his own blood. 

The bath drains slightly when the temperature of it dips underneath a comfortable 80 degrees fahrenheit, and a side panel opens before more hot water pours into it to warm the water back to what Inseong had selected. He sighs, frowning as he raises a hand to his sensitive nose, wincing at the touch of his fingertips against the skin. “Fuck…” He murmurs, reaching over the edge of the tub to grab a towel off the hooks he had installed on the wall, stretching his arm to manage to reach the towels.

He stands up and wraps the towel around himself, stepping out of the bath before crossing the bathroom to stand in front of the mirror. The rock song playing from his phone fades and is replaced by another soft, gentle instrumental. Inseong recognizes it vaguely, but ends up not humming along to the tune as when he does so for a brief moment his face begins burning. He reaches forward and clicks a button underneath the mirror, watching as his reflection appears after the fan above the mirror kicks on and begins to blow out hot air onto the fogged glass. 

The city he lived in was more advanced than others. In 2089, Seoul had actually become the technological powerhouse of the globe. At times, he felt lucky to be surrounded by all of the newest tech, but he knew how dangerous the city became if those inside didn’t abide by its silent rules. He’d heard stories of tourists disappearing off of the streets, or ducking into the flashy casinos or brothels and never coming out. Inseong knew how dark things got within the confines of an inescapable city, and was careful to listen to the whispered rules to avoid becoming the next meal to the starving streets, kicked back like a pill before he was issued missing and his only lasting impression on the cruel streets were tattered posters on the sides of buildings.

Inseong sighs, fingertips continuing to rub the blackening skin on the bridge of his nose and on his cheek. He turns around tiredly, crouching down in front of the dryer to grab his boxers, a dark shirt and a pair of sweats from it. He slides into them quickly, not wanting to feel the cold air that had begun to fill the bathroom from the draft in the slightly off-hinge door, and hugs himself softly as he bites his lip.

He supposes he’d just go to bed and sleep through the entirety of the next day, since he didn’t have to work because of the minor injury he’d sustained. Of course, he’d pretended it was much, _much_ worse than what it truly was in an attempt to get work off, and he’d succeeded in his plans beautifully. 

The Summer Exhibition was an annual display of the city’s newest technology and products, but most used it as an excuse to get drunk. Inseong had never liked the Exhibition; he’d much rather stay home and read or watch a movie than be out working for the drunken, idiotic public, forcing each and every smile.

However, there were some aspects of the Exhibition that Inseong didn’t mind much. Most stores and companies had sales, and the fireworks displays that lit up the sky on each night _were_ rather beautiful. 

Inseong grabs his phone and leaves the bathroom to walk into the living room, passing through it to get to his bedroom. His home isn’t large, but it’s enough for him. Five rooms; a bathroom, two bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen. It wasn’t cheap, but Inseong managed.

He sighs, stretching his arms up above his head as he yawns. His job was usually easy on him, but tonight had obviously been rough. He was a security guard at a dodgy bar that most people chose to avoid, but cheap booze during the Exhibition was hard to come by, and Inseong’s workplace always became a favorite when the weather turned hot. 

Inseong kicks open his bedroom door, looking longingly towards his bed as he approaches it. He collapses onto the blanket, dropping his phone onto the thick comforter before he sits back up, pulling the blankets away from the mattress to slip underneath them. 

His phone lays abandoned somewhere in the darkness on top of the sheets, but it buzzes softly in an attempt to garner Inseong’s attention once again. Inseong groans, settling underneath the blankets further in an attempt to forget about the device. He closes his eyes, rolls his shoulders back against the mattress, and tries to find sleep.

Ultimately, it’s futile - his phone continues to buzz, and in an annoyed manner Inseong sits up to search for it on his bed. He runs his fingers over the blankets, pulling his lips together tightly when he finally feels the glass beneath his fingertips. He pulls it into his grip, squinting in the darkness of his bedroom to make out his screen. 

The light blinds Inseong for a moment when he turns the device on, and he winces as he widens his eyes, hoping they’ll adjust to the sudden display light quickly. 

Inseong tosses his phone back onto his bed when he finds the notifications he’d received were just from his workplace’s group chat. He’d skimmed over some texts, which were mostly just from his plastered coworkers who had gotten off of their shifts earlier that night, and immediately felt exhausted by them. He loved them, absolutely, but they wore Inseong out to be around.

It doesn’t take long for Inseong to realize he won’t be able to sleep that night. He can faintly hear the crowds on the street through his walls, and his head had begun to throb while at the same time his injury only continued to flare with pain each time he exhaled. He slips out of bed, leaving his phone behind as he approaches his bedroom door. Dragging his feet on the old gray carpet that makes up his flooring, a muted shuffling sound indicating his motion, he leaves the room to instead walk into his kitchen. 

Inseong walks through the living room once again to enter the kitchen, opening his freezer to grab a frozen bag of vegetables before he drops down into one of the chairs next to the kitchen table. He lifts the bag to press to his face, groaning softly as he feels the wound begin to numb the longer he holds the freezer burnt bag to his skin. 

Leaning back against the wooden chair, Inseong sighs. He squeezes his eyes shut, tilting his head back to lessen the pressure he needed to apply on the bag to hold it there. Instead, he lightly holds it in place with his fingertips, breathing in through his nose and lightly out of his mouth as he tries to feel comforted by the cold.

It works, but only for a moment. Inseong’s forced to open his eyes and peer outside when he hears shouting down the street through an opened window above his sink. 

He watches a shadow dart past his window, head lowered and hood up as it passes the wall in a rush. A moment later a small group runs after it, shouting with flashlights pointed. Inseong scoffs, considering them a thief or somebody who pissed on a cop car, before he closes his eyes again. Things like this happened any time a large-scale event took place in the city - somebody got out of hand, and either a group of officers or citizens taking matters into their own hands would chase down the offender.

Inseong sighs, pulling his lips together tightly. 

The sound of the outside electrifies him. Though he’s exhausted and numbing his pain with a bag of likely expired, frozen peas, he wants to go outside and experience the Summer Exhibition like the rest of the city was. He wants to spend time with his friends, wants to go drinking and feel carefree for as long as the night permits.

Yet, he can’t.

He could. Nothing was stopping him but the mental blockades he’d built for himself. He knows that the city’s a bad place to be disoriented in, knows that missing persons and tourists disappearing were due to a sinister cause. To be drunk and potentially alone, wandering the streets, was tempting a dangerous, and possibly deadly, fate.

So, Inseong stays home. He tells himself he likes the idea of being curled up on the couch with a book, living a secluded life in the comfort of his own home. But all humans craved excitement; Inseong only wishes he hadn’t been conditioned to overthink and worry about his safety. He can’t bring himself to think that everybody he’d ever known in the city is still around and a part of his life, so he shouldn’t worry. He’d always been paranoid, and he’s convinced that if he dares step foot outside during the night, he’d be whisked away into the darkness, never to be seen again. 

Well, not _never_ he supposes. His face would be plastered on missing posters, at least. 

He shudders at the thought, squeezing his eyes shut tighter as if it’ll stop him from envisioning the worst for himself. 

After a moment he hears rushed footsteps on the pavement outside once again, and he cracks an eye open the moment somebody vaults themself into his kitchen window.

Inseong jumps up, a panicked shout echoing through the kitchen as the man crashes down onto his counter, falling onto the floor as he takes a clean set of dishes with him. Inseong’s too stunned by the suddenness of it all to react; all he can do is stand next to the table, clutching the frozen bag in his hand as he feels his panic rise in his throat. 

The man hits the floor with the dishes, the porcelain shattering around him on the tiled floor. Inseong hears a choked groan come out of his own throat, which is mirrored by a soft, pained whimper coming from the stranger. His eyes are closed, and he doesn’t make a move once he’s on the floor. He’s deathly still, and Inseong worries that he might actually be dead from his lack of any and all movement.

Oddly, Inseong isn’t afraid. Not entirely, he’s more concerned for the man on the floor than he is worried he’s going to get hurt himself. Cautiously, he takes a step closer, but falls still as soon as he hears shouting coming towards his building. 

“Down,” the stranger whispers, reaching forward to grab Inseong’s ankle, “get down.” 

Inseong flinches at the sudden contact, but obliges immediately when the hollering outside draws closer. He hesitantly crouches down a bit in front of the man, whose hand is still wrapped firmly around his leg. Inseong swallows thickly, discomforted by the situation. 

He finds himself holding his breath when the group outside falls silent, the only indication of their passing being the muted pattering of their shoes on the pavement. The sound drowns against the chatter of the busy nightlife, and Inseong breathes again when he’s sure they’re gone.

Immediately, he tears the other’s arm off of him, holding it painfully tight in his grip as he stares down at him. “Who the _hell_ are you?”

The man attempts to pull himself free, but Inseong holds him fast, taking the advantage to seize the stranger’s other arm in his free hand. He drops the bag he’d been holding before in favor of the other’s skin, kicking it to the side. It crunches against the wall where it lands, and the man glares up to Inseong as he tries to pull away once again.

“Let me go.”

“You’re in _my_ house. Who are you?” 

From the man’s expression, Inseong only assumes the remark he bites back to be a snide one. “My name’s Sanghyuk.” He finally hisses, trying to pull away once again.

“Why are you in my…” Inseong lets his voice fade, his words dying on his tongue when he sees a familiar tattoo on the side of the man’s neck. “Oh, you’re an Android, huh?” His tone becomes softer before he lets go of the man’s hands, crouching next to him. 

Defensively, Sanghyuk pulls his arms closer to himself as Inseong investigates him. Inseong smiles gently, his worry vanishing almost entirely as he realizes that the man in front of him isn’t a threat. Androids couldn’t harm humans, not without specific instruction to do so. And, though Inseong’s paranoid, he knows he’s not far enough on anybody’s bad side for them to send an Android to kill him. 

“Did you get lost?” He hums, gently tugging at Sanghyuk’s shirt collar to reveal more of the tattoo, hoping it can tell him who originally bought the Android. “Where’s your owner-?”

“-Don’t fucking touch me!” The man shouts, shooting backwards. He stares angrily up to the other. Inseong jumps, shocked by the sudden outburst, before he narrows his eyes, analyzing the other. 

“So you malfunctioned,” he states, more to himself and the room to the Android itself. “Explains why you came through my window…”

“I didn’t _malfunction_ , asshole.” Annoyance drips from the Android’s tone, and Inseong raises his eyebrows comically, looking Sanghyuk up and down before he notices the tears in the other’s clothing. Through the holes and gashes, Inseong sees the faint outline of tattoos, and when Sanghyuk moves his muscles ripple slightly. Both of the features are uncommon for Androids.

“Who was chasing you?” Inseong ignores Sanghyuk’s previous statement, and he frowns as he continues. “I’ll call your manufacturer… They’ll be able to get you back to where you came from. Don’t be worried, okay?”

“No!” Sanghyuk shouts suddenly, his anger from before draining from his face rapidly. In its place rests fear. “Please, _please_ don’t. I’m not an Android, I...”

Inseong frowns, looking down at the glass that surrounds the other on the floor. He extends a hand and helps Sanghyuk to his feet. “Of course you are,” he murmurs, “you must be really fucked up, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll help you. Just let me go get my phone, okay?”

“ _Please_ don’t do that,” the other whispers, eyes widening as he begins to plead with Inseong, “I swear, I’m not… I’m human! I’m a fucking human, I’m not an Android.”

“You have the tattoo.”

“You’re basing what I am off of a tattoo!?”

“Why would a human get a manufacturing label on their neck?”

Sanghyuk’s face flushes red, and he raises a hand quickly to hide the tattoo on the side of his neck. “I… I don’t know. I don’t remember a lot, just that I woke up in the back of a truck. And I’m scared, and I’m human, and I don’t....” 

Inseong doesn’t know what to believe. He’d seen Androids malfunction before; they’d all said vastly different things, so he still doesn’t want to rule out a bug in the other’s software. He also can’t trust his intellect entirely; Sanghyuk’s fear is something that was unusual to see in Androids. Those that had emotion replicated into them were far more expensive, and much more uncommon to see. Regardless, Inseong decides to hold off on calling any company that may have manufactured the potential Android. He was scared of _something_ , and Inseong’s positive that a malfunction wouldn’t instill this much fear onto somebody. Disorientation, sure, but not fear.

“Okay,” he nods, “I won’t call anybody. Not for now, at least.”

Sanghyuk looks ready to burst into tears as he looks up to Inseong, his shoulders dropping as if the weight of the world had been lifted off of them. “Thank you,” he whispers, his hand still locked around Inseong’s. “Thank you.”

Inseong nods, pulling away after a moment. “Um…” He looks around, finding the room much smaller than what he remembered it being before. “I don’t really know where to go from here, though.” He smiles nervously, raising a hand to hide his bruised nose behind when he notices the other staring. 

“Mm,” Sanghyuk hums, agreeing quietly, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay.” Inseong smiles, walking over to the wall so he can grab the frozen bag he’d kicked away minutes before. He dusts it off, absently rubbing it against his shirt before he places it back against his nose. “You must be tired, right? Android or not… You gotta sleep.” Inseong doesn’t feel threatened by the other. In his eyes, Sanghyuk needs help, and he wouldn’t turn away somebody who needed help. “You can take the couch. I’ll grab you some blankets.”

“Thank you…” Sanghyuk murmurs. Inseong begins leading him to the living room before he pauses, hearing something heavy dragging on the floor behind himself.

Curiously, Inseong turns, and to his horror he finally notices the tight, broken shackles that hang disconnectedly from Sanghyuk’s ankles.

“Oh, my God!” His eyes widen before he grabs Sanghyuk’s wrist, dragging him quickly to the couch before urging him to sit down. “Hold on, I’ll- I’ll find something to break those off with!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop that!” Inseong cards a hand through his hair, the other still tightly clutching the quickly warming bag to his nose. “Just stay there, I’ll be back.”

Inseong walks back to the kitchen, avoiding the shattered glass on the floor when he throws the bag of vegetables back into the freezer. He maneuvers over the pieces expertly on his way back out of the kitchen, walking to the bathroom next.

He returns to the living room a moment later, a small box of tools in his arms. “I didn’t know what to grab.” He smiles, but it falls at the other’s nervous pout.

“Sorry.”

“ _Please_ stop apologizing.” Inseong sets the box down before he kneels in front of the other, gently taking his leg into his arms before grabbing the first tool he sees from the box. He draws his lips together tightly, dropping the hammer at his side. “Okay, useless…” He grabs the next one, hoping the bolt cutters he now holds will do the trick. 

Sanghyuk turns away as Inseong works on breaking through the remains of the unconnected restraints, but turns back quickly when he manages to snap through one of them. Feeling accomplished, Inseong lets out a small, pleased cry before he moves onto the other shackle, dropping the previous piece of steel next to the hammer.

“Thank you,” Sanghyuk murmurs, ducking his head slightly.

“Of course,” Inseong emphasizes the last word when the shackle comes loose under the grip of the bolt cutters, and he twists the restraint harshly before it finally breaks as the other did. “That better?” He looks up, and when he sees Sanghyuk nod furiously, he laughs. “Good!”

Sanghyuk reaches down to gently rub his ankles, idly looking to Inseong as he does so. “Why are you helping me?” He questions softly, eyes full of questions that Inseong doesn’t know he has the answers to.

“Because you look like you need it.”

Nodding slightly, Sanghyuk turns his attention back to his ankles, rubbing them absently. Inseong takes the silence as a good break in their conversation to leave, hoisting the flimsy cardboard box of tools back into his arms before he takes it back to the bathroom. 

Opening the cupboard underneath the sink with his knee, Inseong drops down and pushes the box back into the corner he’d dragged it out from. The cupboard snaps shut with a harsh click when he shoves the doors back, and before he leaves the bathroom he glances to the washer and dryer, raising a quizzical eye before walking back towards his bedroom.

Ideally, Inseong would be asleep right now. He’d be pressed firmly against his pillows, his blankets hanging haphazardly towards the floor as he would have kicked them away due to the summer heat. He wouldn’t feel his skin twitching where he’d gotten injured earlier in the day. He wouldn’t be caring for an Android - or, a possible man who just had a tattoo of a manufacturing label on his neck - and he surely wouldn’t be as worried as he is now. 

Though, Inseong can’t feel angered or annoyed by the sudden appearance of Sanghyuk. He’s tired, but how could he say he was bothered by somebody who needed his help? 

“Do you want some clothes?” Inseong questions as he walks through the living room, not stopping to look to the other when he asks the question. Instead, he continues walking into his room, grabbing two pillows from his bed, and after a moment of deliberation, grabs his own blanket before slinging it over his arm. 

When he returns to the living room, Sanghyuk’s watching him curiously. “Um… I don’t want to ask that much,” he murmurs, only for Inseong to shake his head in protest. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry about that.” Inseong tosses the pillows and the blanket towards Sanghyuk, eyeing him before turning back around. “I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re wearing _that_.”

The other’s clothes are tattered; his jeans are speckled with little tears and his shirt sports large gashes that expose plenty of bare skin. Inseong can’t stand the sight of him; he won’t be able to until the other at least _looks_ like he didn’t just escape from the back of a truck, which he claims happened. Which, of course, Inseong doesn’t doubt, but nonetheless, he’s unwilling to let the other look the part. 

Sanghyuk remains silent when Inseong disappears back into his dark bedroom, only speaking up once again when Inseong comes back with a black shirt and sweatpants. “Here, take these.”

“Thank you.”

“Bathroom’s over there,” Inseong juts a finger towards the mentioned room, and Sanghyuk glances towards it before he stands up, nodding as he sets the pillow he’d been clutching in his lap on the couch. He takes the clothes from Inseong with another quiet _thank you_ , walking quickly to the other room. 

Inseong walks towards the couch, ready to fix the pillows the other had left messily laying on the cushions before his foot knocks against something cold and metallic. Inseong remembers the shackles he’d left on the floor, and unsure what to do with them, he crouches down to pick them up.

Now alone, he feels more comfortable investigating them. Inseong raises one of the shackles to the light that pours into the dark room through his window, squinting to read the label printed finely on the edge of one of the restraint.

**Property of OTO Systems.**

_Android._ Inseong isn’t surprised; the labels confirmed it. Sanghyuk either malfunctioned or hadn’t fully been processed into the system, resulting in some sort of “memory loss” or panicked state. Inseong brings the shackles into his own bedroom, tossing them onto the bed to investigate further once the other was settled. In the meantime, while Sanghyuk changes clothes, Inseong assorts the pillows at the head of the couch before throwing the blanket over the back of it, letting it hang over the seat cushions so the other can choose to lay above or below them.

The clicking of the bathroom door opening signifies Sanghyuk’s return to Inseong, and he steps back and smiles at the other. “Hey,” Inseong tries when Sanghyuk’s standing a bit closer, “can I look at that tattoo quick?”

“Oh, um…” Sanghyuk nods, his breath hitching when Inseong’s fingers rest underneath the black ink under his skin. 

**Property of OTO Systems.**

**Serial No. 9OW0230R3D**

**Model: xc8i-9000**

Underneath the words that Inseong doesn’t understand - and likely will not understand, as he doesn’t work for the company, is a thickly written product tag. Inseong nods, pulling away before smiling once again. “Okay, well-”

“Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Huh?”

“Your face.” Sanghyuk mumbles. “It’s all,” he motions to his own face before grimacing, “all gross.”

Inseong blanches. He recovers slowly, stunned at the other’s boldness with his final statement. “Alright, well, you’re no prize yourself.” He’s lying - the other was extremely attractive, but almost all Androids were. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Okay,” Sanghyuk nods, dropping softly down onto the couch. Inseong can’t help but note the deflated tone in the other’s voice, and he waits until the other’s settled underneath the blanket before he walks back towards his own room. 

“Let me know if you need something,” Inseong hums, looking over his shoulder at the Android. Sanghyuk nods, eyes wide as he looks up to the other.

“Of course.”

That night, Inseong finds himself unable to sleep. 

It’s obvious now he won’t be able to; it’s five in the morning, his face is throbbing relentlessly, and a stranger’s Android lays sleeping in his living room. In his lonesome, he finds himself holding absently onto one of the shackles that had previously been locked around Sanghyuk’s ankle in one hand, the other holding his phone as he scrolls through his internet browser. 

**SEARCH: OTO SYSTEMS ANDROIDS**

_About 5,180,000 results (0.52 seconds)_

**OTO Systems Releases New and Impr…**

_One of the leading companies in android production releases a new model, the…_

**OTO Recalls Older Models in Favor of…**

_OTO Systems issues a recall notice of their model 8 and older Androids as…_

**Interview with OTO Systems’ President…**

_Is there a new model Android being released soon, just in time for the Sum…_

Inseong doesn’t find the results thrilling. To him, these are the usual search results he’d expect; nothing jumps out at him, yet he feels like there’s more. Though, after he clicks through six pages and he sees nothing but interviews and articles about new and old models and whatnot, he decides he must be mistaken.

Turning his phone off, Inseong rolls over and places it on his nightstand, the glass tabletop lighting up with the time and the current charge of his phone. 

**5:24AM, 56% Charged**

He flicks his wrist, signalling for the device to turn itself off, which it does eagerly at his command. “Fucking new tech…” He breathes, gently turning in towards his pillow, attempting to ease his face onto it gently to avoid any further pain. “‘S stupid…”

Inseong closes his eyes, sighing softly as he tries to figure out what to do next. Should he call OTO? Talk to their maintenance, read them off Sanghyuk’s model and serial numbers and let them come and take him? That would be the most logical approach, yet… Inseong can’t get the other’s fear out of his head. 

The Android’s fear is the only thing that makes Inseong refrain from making the call. The other had become so gentle after Inseong promised not to call anybody; he wants to believe that something other than a bug in the other’s software had caused a reaction like that. There’s a violent contrast between Sanghyuk swearing at him in his own kitchen when compared to him apologizing so profusely any time Inseong tried to help him.

But, it was just a malfunction, wasn’t it?

Inseong can’t even tell. The other acted so _human_ , yet he couldn’t be. All of the signs point towards Android, but something nags at Inseong and tells him not to make such a quick judgement. 

* * *

“Good morning.” 

Inseong had woken up late that morning to a quiet home, relieved when he still saw the Android asleep on his couch. He’d worried the other would disappear while he slept, but considering that he’d been awake for most of the night and only had a handful of hours of sleep, the time for the other to slip out would have been slim. 

“Morning…”

Inseong stands over the stove, his kitchen window opened to the city to allow in the sound of people bustling through their second days of the Summer Exhibition. In Inseong’s hands is a pan, and he flips the eggs he’d been scrambling in them idly as he turns to watch Sanghyuk walk into the kitchen. “Did you sleep well?” He hums, letting the pan sizzle as he scrutinizes over the other.

He really, _really_ looked human. It’s unsettling - Inseong can’t see anything on him other than his tattoo that signifies him being a manufactured product. Sanghyuk shrugs, awkwardly shuffling his feet in the doorway, unsure of if he should come closer or stay where he is. “Okay… What about you?” There’s caution in his tone now, something that he hadn’t displayed the night before. 

Inseong worries that he intimidates the other, slots his fingers through his bubblegum pink hair, and hums as he once again flips what he has cooking in the pan. “Hey, since I’m helping you out, help me out for a second.” HE decides that the other may feel more comfortable if he feels that he and Inseong are helping each other, and that he’s not simply bothering the other. Though, Inseong hopes Sanghyuk doesn’t think of himself as a bother. 

“Of course,” the Android nods, gently stepping over the kitchen tiles to stand next to Inseong, “what’s up?”

“That cabinet,” Inseong motions to one of the cupboards besides the opened window, “can you grab some plates out of it?”

Without a word, Sanghyuk disappears from his side. Inseong hears the wooden door open and click shut a moment later, the scratching of ceramic plates together signifying that Sanghyuk had found the dishes without much trouble. Sanghyuk comes back to stand beside Inseong, obediently clutching the dishes as he waits for the next direction from Inseong.

“Go… Go set them on the table.”

“Oh, okay,” Sanghyuk nods, walking over to the table before awkwardly setting the dishes down. “How… How does your face feel?”

“It’s been better,” Inseong quips, lifting the pan finally off of the heat before following Sanghyuk to the table, scraping out the eggs onto the plates with the fork he’d been using to scramble them on the stove. “How are you feeling? Any better than last night?”

“I’m okay,” Sanghyuk nods, thanking the other quietly afterwards. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Huh?”

“That I’m human. You don’t think I am, right?” Sanghyuk watches Inseong walk back to the counter, dropping the pan into the sink before leaning against it, turning to face the other with his palms pressed against the edge of the countertop. 

“I can’t tell. I don’t really know what to believe.”

Sanghyuk nods. “I don’t know what to say to convince you.”

Inseong shrugs and walks back over to the table, dropping into a chair. Sanghyuk follows his lead, eyes widening when Inseong suddenly shoves his chair backwards and stands up. “I forgot to grab silverware…” He murmurs, grumbling about his forgetfulness as he returns to the counter. He opens a drawer besides the sink, grabs two forks, and hands one to Sanghyuk before falling back into his seat. 

Inseong can’t eat. He watches Sanghyuk eat, watches his eyes light up when he first tastes what he’d made, only for that glow to be beaten back down by mistrust. His nervous gaze flickers to Inseong, then back to the table, where it remains. 

There’s nothing mechanical about Sanghyuk. But, then again, was there anything mechanical about Androids in general? Weren’t they all the same; born into perfect human bodies, the exact replication of a living being while their brains and bodies were simply more advanced? Inseong drags his fingers against his lap, fingers tapping his legs idly as he continues to watch Sanghyuk.

“I want to believe you.” He begins slowly, cocking his head to the side. Sanghyuk looks up then, nodding slowly as he takes in Inseong’s words carefully. “But that tattoo… I can’t help but wonder why you have it if you’re human.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t believe me.” Sanghyuk starts lowly, narrowing his eyes before taking another bite of the eggs. Immediately the content glow returns to his face, and he beams at Inseong. “You’re a good cook.”

“I… Um… Thanks.” Inseong murmurs. “Sorry, why would you say that?”

“It was a compliment.”

Inseong sputters. “The first thing!? Th-You call that a compliment?”

“The first- _oh_ _!”_ Sanghyuk smiles. “I just wanted to fuck with you. If you don’t believe me, that can’t be helped.” He leans back. “I can’t make you believe me, I’ll never know what you really think because you could say one thing but believe another. You could’ve already called whoever-the-fuck and the gang from last night I was running from. Label’s got the manufacturer, right?”

Inseong’s breath hitches. “Of course I didn’t-”

“-but I wouldn’t know that. They could come knocking on that door right now,” Sanghyuk leans forward, jerking the sharp end of his fork in the direction of the front door, which sits about five feet away besides the table. “And then what?”

“I didn’t call anybody.” Inseong states flatly, straightening his head before becoming deathly still, watching the other. Sanghyuk speaks calculatedly, as if he’d run through this conversation already countless times. Though, his voice trembles. It’s almost completely muted, the sound of his quivering consonants and syllables, but it’s still lurking beneath them just audibly enough for Inseong to snag onto. “You told me not to.”

“I’m glad.” Sanghyuk murmurs. His gaze softens. “I want you to believe me.”

“I want to believe you, too.”

 _But the tattoo_. The words hang loosely on the end of each of their sentences, interlocking them together tightly. Inseong knows he’s fucked the moment Sanghyuk starts laughing.

Sanghyuk laughs. It’s gentle before he needs to drop the fork he’d still been pointing at the door with, favoring leaning back in his chair as his laughter tears from his lungs and body and refuses to die down. Inseong’s fucked, because there’s no way he can risk calling somebody to take the other. He knows it’s pointless, that the other was most likely an Android and that he was reading far too much into things, but he can’t bring himself to be fully committed to the thought. 

He’s fucked, because when Sanghyuk attempts to make eye contact again, his laughter only comes back stronger. Inseong finds himself smiling, too, lost in the appearance and nature of the other horribly. He’s too human; but he’s perfect. 

“What?” Inseong murmurs, squinting curiously at the other as he continues to laugh. “What’s wrong?” 

Sanghyuk shakes his head. Inseong falls further entranced with him, everything the Android does a complete mystery. His being is a question in and of itself - what _is_ Sanghyuk? Where did he come from? Who is he? Inseong wants to find the answers. One by one, he wants to unravel them, and finds himself unwilling to let go of the sudden desire he has to learn as much as he can about the other. 

“Nothing,” Sanghyuk’s breath finally begins to even out, his laughter subduing itself into quiet giggles and breaths. “You just… You look so serious.”


	2. night people

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work contains dark elements. Reader discretion is advised.

Seokwoo wakes up on the floor.

He can’t feel his body. He’s floating in the center of the room, levitating off of the old, stained carpet as he stares up at the ceiling with eyes that can’t register much of anything. The room swims in and out of focus as he watches it, his vision darkening before the light drifts in through the windows and dances over his eyelids. 

He’s not alive. At least, he doesn’t feel like he is. In this warped state of consciousness with the drugs he’d taken the night before still prevalent in his system, playing him like a violin, Seokwoo doesn’t feel alive. He’s dead, his corpse smiling up at the ceiling in a daze as he feels absolutely  _ elated _ . His body sings, humming as if taking in thousands of volts of electricity each second.

“Seokwoo.”

Now, Seokwoo finds himself drowning. The other’s voice comes to him from above the surface; when it translates to the depths, where Seokwoo resides, it’s nothing more than a subdued murmur.

And, when the long haired brunette blocks the sunlight from Seokwoo’s face, easing himself down onto the older’s lap with a tired yawn, Seokwoo’s corpse begins to wake up.

“What time is it?” He looks through the other, swallowing thickly. He focuses on the space directly behind the brunette, piecing together what it looks like from his memories before he envisions the small, broken window and the dent in the wall hiding behind the other’s head. 

“Late,” his friend hums before leaning forwards, collapsing gently on top of Seokwoo’s chest like a cat, nuzzling his head into the other’s shoulder. “I feel like shit.”

“Uh-huh…”

“Make me breakfast.”

The command kills Seokwoo’s high - at least, for enough time for Seokwoo to spit out a joking “fuck off, Youngkyun.” And, after the words pass Seokwoo’s lips, he’s back underwater, the light shining in through the window skewed from the surface, washing over him in beautiful golden waves.

Seokwoo’s in heaven. 

“Please?” Youngkyun whines, his voice only clear because of how close he is to Seokwoo’s ear. The older’s jolted painfully back to reality. “You’re a good cook. I burn shit all the time. Please?”

“Fuck off, Youngkyun.”

Seokwoo closes his eyes, feeling his high climbing back up to him, ready to drag him back to the beautiful afterlife he’d previously found himself in.

“I’m hungry,” Youngkyun continues finally, whining against Seokwoo’s shoulder. “Either you make breakfast or we go out…”

Seokwoo shoves Youngkyun off of himself, frowning when the other forces him out of his beautiful high once again. He’s getting irritated. “Then I’ll make something,” he sits up, raking a hand through his hair harshly. “Fuck, Youngkyun….”

The younger jumps back happily, standing after a moment of watching Seokwoo wake up. “You’re the best, Seokwoo.”

“I hate you right now,” Seokwoo informs, grumbling as his high continues to die steadily. “I felt so good… Why the hell can’t you just go buy something!? There’s like, ten bakeries a few streets over!”

“Because it’s day one of the Exhibition,” Youngkyun stresses, humor lighting in his eyes as Seokwoo stands up. “You want to go out today? With all those fucking tourists? When we could stay inside, eat breakfast, and then sleep all day?”

Seokwoo narrows his eyes at the other, shaking his head. “All you do is eat and sleep. What are you, a fucking cat?” He turns before Youngkyun can answer, walking over to his bed before grabbing his phone off of his pillow. It lights up with notifications, and he scrolls through them idly.

**10 EMAILS**

**2 MISSED CALLS**

**3 MESSAGES**

Seokwoo’s sure that the emails are spam, so he ignores them as he checks instead on his calls and messages. His phone’s rather slow - after all, the model is an older one, and it takes much longer to open up his notifications than Youngkyun’s would. 

All of the calls and messages are from the brunette who stands a few feet behind Seokwoo.

“Why the hell did you call me?”

“I dunno, I was high.” Youngkyun defends himself flatly, shrugging when Seokwoo turns to look to him. The older scoffs.

“Alright, fine. What do you want to eat?” He pockets his phone, sliding it into the front of his dark hoodie before he leaves his room.

Seokwoo’s apartment is small - he’d only been able to afford one with three rooms, and barely had enough to scrape by as it was after paying his rent. When he leaves his bedroom, he’s standing immediately in a small living space. The floor splits halfway down from carpet into tile, signifying what should be two rooms that have instead been meshed together to conserve space. The bathroom is connected to Seokwoo’s room, and the front door sits next to the stove. 

There’s barely room to move around in the kitchen, so Seokwoo urges Youngkyun to wait in the living room while he attempts to make something for the both of them. Obediently, Youngkyun falls back onto the small couch in the room, toying with his phone while Seokwoo rifles through the kitchen cabinets for anything he could potentially cook.

“I have literally nothing,” Seokwoo decides finally, scrunching his face up distastefully as he pulls a bag of opened flour out of the shelf he’s digging through. “I feel like I should throw this out,” he murmurs to himself, staring at the unprotected flour that had been exposed to the inside of the desolate cabinet. 

“We can go out,” Youngkyun murmurs, “I’ll pay.”

“I don’t wanna ask you to do that.”

Youngkyun shrugs, standing up before coming to stand in front of Seokwoo. He leans against the edge of the small counter that helps separate the two minuscule pieces of the room from each other. Seokwoo sways slightly, still coming down slowly as he stands in the kitchen.

Part of Seokwoo still feels dead. In his mind, he’s still lying on the floor, the golden light illuminating his face like he’s being accepted into the afterlife warmly. He wishes he was still there, but instead he’s staring dully at his younger friend, tiredly waiting for him to repeat himself. He knows he will; Youngkyun never took no for an answer. He’s stubborn.

“I don’t mind. Come on, let’s just go out.”

* * *

“So,” Youngkyun hums, kicking his legs absently underneath the table he sits at with Seokwoo, “what should we do tonight? I think there’s some showcases going on…”

Seokwoo shakes his head, taking a slow sip of his coffee before he responds. The clock on the wall ticks past one in the afternoon, but Seokwoo still feels like he’s just woken up, like the day’s just begun and he didn’t miss the entire morning due to his sleepy high. “Androids freak me out,” he murmurs, “and those are gonna be super busy anyway… Let’s just chill tonight.”

“Ah… I really want to check out OTO’s display, though,” Youngkyun hums, “it starts in an hour…”

“That’s all good,” Seokwoo murmurs, setting his mug down as he smiles at the other, “we can just meet back up again tonight. I have to shower and clean my place up a bit, anyway. You have fun, just text me when you’re heading back over.”

The brunette nods, his long hair bouncing when he does so. “Alright, cool. I can stop by Chanhee’s later, too,” Youngkyun murmurs the name, looking around after he says it as if he’d whispered something truly despicable. And, from the stories Seokwoo had heard about the young man mentioned, Youngkyun  _ had _ stated something that could raise concern. The name was incriminating, even; it would definitely stir up any official who heard it.

An eighteen year old drug lord who managed to evade the law at each step wasn’t somebody to be brought up so casually. Yet, Youngkyun was friends with him, and felt no fear when mentioning his younger friend. Seokwoo couldn’t say the same for himself. He’d met Chanhee once, seen the flash of a gun tucked into the other’s waistband when he’d been reaching to help Youngkyun grab something, and Seokwoo had never wanted to interact with him again. 

“I’ll buy some drinks later on,” Seokwoo glazes over the younger’s last comment, deciding not to dwell for much longer on the topic. “What do you want; soju? Whiskey?”

“Whatever’s cheap that’ll get me drunk,” Youngkyun shrugs, “I’m not picky.”

“I’m grateful for that,” Seokwoo muses, reaching down to grab his mug once again. He hadn’t bought anything to eat. He’d felt nauseous since arriving at the small diner Youngkyun had led him to, and so he’d collapsed into the closest booth and only ordered a coffee from the Android that took their orders. He sips on the cooled drink slowly, grimacing at the bitterness of it. 

Youngkyun had already paid, and so when he begins to stand, Seokwoo does as well. “The walk’s a bit long, I’m thinking I should head out.” The younger hums, reaching down to swipe his phone off of the table. “So, it’s about… one thirty,” he murmurs, closing his eyes for a moment. “The showcase ends around four… It’s about twenty minutes from the center of the city to Chanhee’s place… forty from yours…” 

Impressed with his ability to calculate distances so easily and quickly, Seokwoo raises his eyebrows and silently awaits Youngkyun’s final statement. He’d never been good with math; in school, his strong suits had been history and science. Youngkyun was good with almost everything, though, only struggling sometimes with his common sense. 

“So I’ll be at your place around six,” Youngkyun finally decides, looking up to Seokwoo. “That sound okay?”

“That’s fine,” Seokwoo nods, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket, thumb running over his phone idly to make sure it’s still there. He regrets wearing the thick top, as the walk back to his apartment was through a thick crowd and the sun had decided to berate the earth that day. The color didn’t help either, as the deep tones of black did nothing to keep him cool. “I guess we’re going in different directions, though,” he smiles as he follows Youngkyun to the door. 

The younger pushes it open with his hip, and Seokwoo waves absently to the Android behind the counter; a girl with long hair and dull looking eyes that show next to nothing. At least, when she notices Seokwoo waving, an expression Seokwoo can somewhat compare to happiness flashes across her face as it had been programmed to. 

Seokwoo steps out of the diner and onto the pavement behind Youngkyun, watching the younger look around the street with interest. Seokwoo follows his gaze, eyeing some of the stands that had been set up on the sidewalks early that morning. He’s curious as to why the pop-ups aren’t set up in the center of the city, where the showcases were being held.

“I’ll see you later, then.” Youngkyun looks over his shoulder to Seokwoo, grinning excitedly. “I’ll grab some pizza on my way over, okay?”

“Fine by me,” Seokwoo waves the other off, “go have fun, ‘Kyun.”

“See you in a while,” Youngkyun hums, pulling out his phone before he begins wandering down the sidewalk. Seokwoo watches him before he disappears into a mass of people cluttered around one of the few stands set up. When he can’t see the younger anymore, Seokwoo begins walking back towards his own apartment, one of his hands still thumbing his phone idly in his pocket while the other sways at his side. 

He still feels somewhat distracted, but it’s nothing comparable to what he’d felt that morning. No, that had been good; relaxing. He’d been detached from his body and everything that worried him then, but now his worries and troubles seep back into his head to berate him. He doesn’t have anything to drown them out, either. He’s forced to listen to them as he navigates the city. 

Would his job reopen as they had previously stated they would? It had been closed because of a fire; surely they would have had enough funds and time to get it fixed by now… Seokwoo prays each day he’ll receive the call that’ll tell him to get ready for his next shift at the bookstore, but it never comes. He isn’t sure if he should begin to pursue another job - he’s lost. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, dragging him haphazardly from his head for a moment. Seokwoo passes through another small crowd as he pulls it out, gripping it a bit tightly in case somebody were to knock into him too harshly. 

There’s no new notification; only the old, unchecked ones still remain on his screen.

**10 EMAILS**

Seokwoo can’t tell what the buzz had been from, but gasps when he attempts to put his phone back into his pocket only for it to repeat itself. The emails widget flashes on his screen dully. 

Did it usually do this when messages were left unchecked? Seokwoo can’t remember ever experiencing something like this before, but nonetheless shoves the device into his pocket once again. He’ll check his emails when he’s back home. Besides, he can see the an opening in between the buildings coming up anyways - he’d be there in a matter of minutes. 

The crowd had thinned out from what it had been before. Seokwoo figures more people had abandoned the irrelevant block to instead be closer to the showcases and events being held further into the city. Seokwoo doesn’t mind it.

Seokwoo turns down an alley, greeted by the familiar sides of tall buildings that often make him feel comfortingly suffocated. His building isn’t far; down a flight of stairs and he’s only a few yards away. He fumbles for the key in his pocket, pulling it out after a moment before approaching his front door.

His phone continues to buzz impatiently in his pocket, and the moment Seokwoo’s unlocked the door and he’s stepping into his kitchen, he grabs his phone out of his pocket. 

Clumsily kicking off his shoes before shutting and locking the door behind himself, Seokwoo opens up his emails and begins to scroll through them, selecting eight of the ten before putting them into his trash folder. They were almost all spam, but one has a coupon for an online store he browses through sometimes while another is… Blank.

The empty message is the one that Seokwoo chooses to open. There’s nothing impressive on the screen save for a link; no sender, no title, no body. There is  _ nothing _ except for a short link for a website Seokwoo’s unfamiliar with.

Naturally, he clicks it. 

Seokwoo thinks it’ll be a spam link, one that leads him to some porn site or some app that couldn’t figure out proper marketing. He’s not worried about it leading to anything potentially dangerous. Though, he should be.

When the link opens a small, blank window, Seokwoo raises a confused eyebrow. He clicks the screen, hoping it’ll refresh, but nothing happens. He’s unable to close the page or turn his phone off, as well. He’s stuck staring at the blank, white screen. 

“Oh, come on…” He grumbles, praying that a virus wasn’t installing itself onto his device, undetected by his phone’s internal security. He wouldn’t be able to afford any repairs for the device if he were to have a virus on it. “Don’t do this to me.”

A moment later, the screen turns black. A white loading bar begins to cross the screen slowly, rolling slowly from 0% to 100% in a matter of seconds. Seokwoo can only stare down at it, narrowing his eyes skeptically. 

When the loading bar is completed, the tab closes itself. And, to Seokwoo’s satisfaction, when he attempts to go to his phone’s home screen, it switches to it faster than usual. 

Yet, there’s something new on the screen. Seokwoo’s never seen the icon before, or heard of it existing on anybody else’s phone. It’s a colorfully animated box, wrapped in orange paper while a red bow sits on top of the gift, bouncing slowly. Seokwoo isn’t sure what to do. He clicks on it hesitantly, and the crude animation of the box opening plays, before…

Nothing.

Nothing happens.

Seokwoo stares in distress at the screen, more convinced than before that he’d downloaded a virus onto his device. 

Until, that is, the screen flashes off before Seokwoo’s lockscreen stares up at him. In a panic, he unlocks the device, ready to reset it in hopes it’ll delete everything that had just been installed before he notices the new addition to his homepage. 

_ “Ah… Thanks for waking me up….” _

Seokwoo’s not sure if he’s sober. If he was, there’s no reasonable explanation for what’s sitting on his homescreen, dressed in a short sleeved black shirt and white jeans. 

“Wh-...” Seokwoo closes his eyes, rubbing them with a hand before he looks back at the screen.

The man on his screen looks tiredly up to him before yawning.  _ “It took you so long...” _

“N… What the fuck.” Seokwoo sets his phone down on the stove, deciding he doesn’t want to deal with  _ any  _ of that right now. He’s fucked up still; he’d thought his high faded but it didn’t. He’s sure he’s not sober. He’d gotten so used to being high that he couldn’t tell the difference between what was real and what wasn’t, he’s sure. 

But he knows that’s not true. He knows that  _ something _ had just downloaded itself onto his phone - something so lifelike it’s terrifying. Seokwoo takes a few steps away, raking his fingers through his hair as he tries to piece it together. 

He can’t. 

_ “Hey! You- you’re just gonna walk away!?” _

“You’re not real!” Seokwoo calls back, horrified that he’d even reacted at all to  _ whatever _ the  _ fuck _ was on his phone. It isn’t real - it can’t be. It’s either a virus or an AI, but neither of those created human bodies to physically appear on a device. They ran as background operations; this… This wasn’t normal. “ _ Not _ real!”

_ “Don’t be mean! Come on, talk to me! What’d you wake me up for if you didn’t want me!?” _

“I  _ didn’t _ wake you up!”

_ “Yes, you did!” _

Seokwoo leaves the kitchen, raising his hands above his head with defeat as he walks back to his bedroom. Whatever  _ that _ was, it existed now. Seokwoo has the feeling that he’ll be stuck with it, and instead of trying to resort things and possibly delete it, he plans on cleaning until all he can think of is the diluted stench of lemon-scented bleach. 

He ignores the distressed cries from his phone, focusing entirely on making his bed. He tucks the black comforter in, setting his pillows up nicely on top of it before he looks around the rest of the small space. He leaves the room hesitantly when he finds that everything else is relatively organized; and, by everything else, he means his nightstand and the small loveseat he has underneath the windows. 

The living room isn’t in bad condition, either. Seokwoo only needs to fix the pillows on the couch and pick up his laptop from where he’d left it on the floor a few days before while he was drunk, watching whatever it is he’d found amusing that night. He’s assuming cat videos, as when he’d woken up he found that he’d cried to Youngkyun over text about wanting a pet cat for well over four hours.

Seokwoo tosses the heavy device onto his bed, watching it bounce on the mattress before settling on top of the comforter. 

Next is the kitchen, but Seokwoo doesn’t want to clean it, so he bypasses it and instead walks into the bathroom, beginning to organize the shelves and sink top slowly. 

He takes his time, feeling the minutes tick by rather quickly when he pulls out the paper towels and bleach and begins to scrub the floor aggressively. His fingertips burn and his eyes itch from the fumes of the liquid, but he refuses to stop, not wanting to face what waited for him in the next room.

Because  _ who the fuck _ wants to deal with something like that? Seokwoo’s overwhelmed by it; he can’t process that there’s something- somebody?- on his phone now, awaiting him. So he scrubs the floor harder, shaking his head. He wants to live normally. He hates the new tech; it’s why he chose not to spend money on the cheaper, older models. He doesn’t like how everyones’ lives are recorded and monitored by their devices. 

The only high tech item Seokwoo had was a watch that tracked his vitals. He’d gotten it a year before, after taking a handful of pills only to wake up in the hospital two weeks later. He’d nearly died that night, and clearly hadn’t learned his lesson. Though, he’d bought the watch as if it would do something, as if he’d care enough to check it when he was minutes away from another overdose. 

He’d never taken it off, though. Not unless he was showering. It reminded him not to take as much as he had the year prior. And, begrudgingly, he’d learned to obey the silent rule that hung around his wrist.

Slowly, he finishes scrubbing the floor, and begrudgingly throws the paper towels he’d crumpled up to use for cleaning away before walking back to the kitchen, still holding the roll of paper towels. Though, when he approaches his phone hesitantly, which still sits idly on his stove, he holds the roll like a weapon. 

“H...Hello…?” He starts cautiously, squinting to make out the screen of his phone. The display’s still on, to Seokwoo’s dismay. 

_ “Why’d you leave me…”  _ Seokwoo drops the roll at the betrayal in the tone of the other. He doesn’t know what to call it. He’s no human, but what  _ is _ he? How the hell could he sound so human?  _ “That was so mean…” _

“I-I’m sorry?” Seokwoo murmurs, slowly putting the roll of paper towels down on the stove beside his phone. Why the  _ hell _ did he apologize!? Seokwoo beats himself up mentally, hating that he’d instantly felt bad for something that shouldn't have emotions in the first place. “What… What are you?”

_ “I dunno. An AI?” _

“How do you not know?” The fact that he’s holding a conversation with whatever this program is makes Seokwoo’s head spin. He’s still put off, but upon hearing actual answers to each of his questions, he calms down ever so slightly. He’s not as intimidated as he should be anymore. “You should know what you are.”

_ “Well, I know what my purpose is, if that helps anything.” _

“And what’s that?”

_ “I’m supposed to obey your every command.” _

Seokwoo laughs. It’s not because he found the statement funny; he couldn’t find anything about this situation funny. He’s terrified. “You, you what?”

_ “I’m yours. Completely.”  _ Seokwoo picks up his phone, looking incredulously at the program. It looks human; completely and utterly human. A program created to look like a human living on his phone screen. _ “What?” _

“Nothing…” Seokwoo clicks on an app, just to see what the other will do. Naturally, the application opens as it should, but the new program that  _ spoke _ still remains on the screen unbothered. It looks back at the application idly. “So you’re… Like an AI?”

_ “Yeah, I guess so.” _

“What’s the weather for today?”

_ “It’s one hundred degrees Fahrenheit.”  _ The other’s tone falls into one that can in no way be compared to a human’s. It’s monotonous and cold, distinctly different from what it had been before.  _ “The humidity is 60%. There’s a 20% chance for rain tonight at around ten.” _

Seokwoo nods, looking around for something else to test the AI with. “What’s my location?”

_ “Downtown Seoul. Would you like me to be more precise?”  _ Still, his voice is distant.

“Ah.. No, that’s close enough.” 

Seokwoo forgets about cleaning the kitchen. It’s not that dirty anyway, and he’d much rather figure out just exactly what he’s dealing with. He holds onto his phone as he walks back to his room, finding his earbuds on his nightstand. 

“Do you have a name?”

_ “You can call me Juho if you’d like.”  _ The other’s tone is back to normal, and Seokwoo can’t get over how  _ natural  _ it sounds. It’s like he’s on the phone with somebody. Somebody that really exists and isn't a hyper real program that reacts to everything Seokwoo says or does.  _ “That’s what my program file’s called.” _

“Oh, okay…” Even the name is human. Seokwoo shivers as he plugs his earbuds into his phone. “Alright, well… Who made you?”

_ “Hold on.” _ The other pauses for a moment.  _ “I tracked the IP address from where the email containing my link was originally sent. It aligns perfectly with the placement of the Tsano Global building.” _

“Tsano, huh..?” Seokwoo nods slowly, recalling the name slowly from one of Youngkyun’s rambling sessions. “Yeah, that sounds right… OTO is for Droids, so Tsano’s the AI producers..?” His question isn’t meant for Juho, but the other answers anyway.

_ “That’s right.” _

“Huh…”

Seokwoo jams his earbuds in, walking out of his bedroom before heading to the front door. He checks the time on the stove, realizing he has a while left until Youngkyun’s going to come back. It’s only about three thirty. 

Seokwoo doesn’t want to believe he’d been busy for that long; it definitely didn’t feel like it. It’s the best time for him to get his shopping for the day done though; he’ll run out, grab some drinks, and pick up anything else he may need from the store.

_ “Are we going somewhere?” _

Juho must hear the front door pop open when Seokwoo unlocks it and shoves it with his shoulder.

“Have to go shopping.” Seokwoo murmurs softly in response.

_ “Want me to make a list?” _

“No… It’s fine, it’s only a few things.”

  
  


When Seokwoo returns home, shopping bags hanging off of his arms precariously, he’s genuinely fond of the new program on his phone. Juho had given Seokwoo directions to every store he needed to go to (while calculating the best routes there to avoid the crowds), and had helped him find the cheapest alternatives for everything he bought within seconds of Seokwoo mentioning one item being a bit pricier than he remembered.

He feels lucky that he has the AI. 

Tired, Seokwoo drops the bags onto his kitchen floor, kicking the door shut behind himself before he begins to put everything he’d bought away. 

_ “You have a text.” _

“Who’s it from?” Seokwoo hums, stretching to shove a bag of chips into a cupboard above his stove. “Youngkyun?”

_ “Is Youngkyun named  _ Thick Little Woodchip  _ on your contacts list?” _

“Yep.” Seokwoo reaches into his pocket, grabbing his phone to check the notification. “Yep, that’s him.”

**THICK LITTLE WOODCHIP: on my way : > got pizza & some more S#**

**ME: Gotta show you something when you get here.**

**THICK LITTLE WOODCHIP: please dont flash me**

**ME: What? No. Ew. What the fuck**

**THICK LITTLE WOODCHIP: i’ve been through shit**

**ME: Okay well I’m not gonna flash you what the fuck.**

**ME: I DONT EVEN WANT TO ASK**

**ME: I got an AI**

**THICK LITTLE WOODCHIP: I AM ON MY WAY NOW JUST FASTER**

**THICK LITTLE WOODCHIP: *police sirens* *shouting into megaphone* I AM COMING**

Youngkyun was a fanatic for new tech. He didn’t have much of it, but he still liked to learn about the different processes and codes that went into every little thing their futuristic society developed. In high school, he’d made his own AIs, but they’d never gotten popular on the web forums he’d posted them to.

Seokwoo knows that if anybody can help him pinpoint exactly what Juho is, it’ll be Youngkyun. All he can do is wait, putting the rest of the groceries away slowly as he waits for his younger friend to come barreling down the pavement, to throw open his door and snatch his phone from him without saying another word.

It’s not that Seokwoo doesn’t trust the program - he’d scanned his phone with a basic antivirus software and the results had come back void of anything dangerous. And, it wasn’t like Juho was even concealing himself in the slightest. He was completely transparent. 

When Seokwoo finishes with the groceries, he looks to his phone display, hesitantly focusing on the other.

_ “What?” _

“Nothing.” Seokwoo murmurs, taking note of the program’s features. Long, dark hair that sweeps across his face, which is slim save for his cheeks. Those puff out softly, and are tinted red ever so slightly as if he’s wearing makeup. His nose is long, curved above his pale lips. “Just… Nothing.”

If the man was real, flesh and bone in a body with a soul, Seokwoo wouldn’t have second thoughts about calling him attractive. Attractive may even be an understatement; the program’s appearance is stunning. 

“Are you… Is your appearance based on a real person?”

_ “I’m based on me.” _

Seokwoo draws his lips together tightly before he walks to the living room, his phone weighing his hand down ever so slightly. “That’s a shame.” Seokwoo muses.

The program doesn’t respond. Seokwoo drops down onto the couch, leaning his head back against it softly. The moment he closes his eyes, though, the front door bangs open.

“Okay, where is it?”

Seokwoo picks his phone up, watching Youngkyun as best as he can with his head still positioned on the back of the couch. He jabs the device he holds towards the younger, who snatches it quickly. “Oh,  _ woah _ ,” he breathes, dropping onto the floor in front of the couch. “Where’d you get it?”

“It emailed itself to me.”

“Really?” Youngkyun’s eyes widen, and he adds on a quiet, “I want one” before he turns his attention back to the phone screen. “What does it do?”

_ “I abide by whatever Master wants.” _

Youngkyun's eyes widen. Seokwoo chokes at the name the program gives him. “You- don’t! Don’t call me that!”

_ “Why not, Master?” _

“That’s so fucking weird!” Seokwoo shouts, jumping up. Youngkyun grins.

“What's your name?”

_ “Juho.” _

Youngkyun nods, handing the phone hesitantly back to Seokwoo. “That’s a nice name,” he hums in response as Seokwoo takes the device back. The brunette stands up, walking back towards the kitchen to retrieve a pia box he’d thrown down on the table. “Should we get fucked up?”

“You  _ just _ got here.” Seokwoo shoves his phone into his pocket, raising an eyebrow as the other begins walking back towards his bedroom. “Didn’t you want to check out the AI a bit, anyway?”

“I don’t have my computer with me to look any deeper. Just seeing it was all I needed.” Youngkyun muses, leaning against the door frame of the other’s bedroom to stare at Seokwoo. “Come on, there’s nothing better to do right now.”

* * *

Seokwoo finds himself back on the floor an hour from when Youngkyun had shown back up in his home.

He’s breathless, his tongue soaked in a bitter taste as he stares, with his lips parted, at the ceiling. There’s lights flashing on it, red and green and black pulsating with energy above him. Youngkyun’s nearby, leaned against the older’s bed with his hair hanging down around his face.

In the corner, the silhouette of a man twitches erratically. Seokwoo watches it absently, knows somewhere in his mind that it’s just a side effect of the Shock. 

_ “Master, your vitals don’t look so good…” _

Seokwoo picks up his phone from where it had been laying abandoned on his chest. He drops it back down onto his hoodie upon seeing the AI looking at him worriedly. “Shut yourself down.”

_ “I can’t do that. I’m worried about your vitals.” _

Annoyed, Seokwoo raises his wrist and tears his watch off, throwing it sharply across the room. It clatters at the feet of the twitching shadow in the corner, which hangs its head to stare at the device. Seokwoo’s breath hitches in his throat when it looks up to him, its head snapping violently to the side before returning to its upright position.

Youngkyun shifts behind him, collapsing onto the floor. Seokwoo feels the other gently nudge his shoulder. “Relax.” 

Seokwoo doesn’t want to relax. He doesn’t understand why he’d been so calm earlier that day, when Juho first appeared on his phone. Why the hell should he be relaxed? He knew  _ nothing _ about where the AI had  _ really _ come from - it could be lying to him. Tsano hadn’t released an AI like him; Youngkyun had mentioned that when he was still able to slur out more than one word. 

_ “Master, please listen to me.” _

“Fuck off.”

_ “I need you to listen to me.” _

Seokwoo’s phone is the next object to get thrown to the feet of the shadow. The lights that flicker on the ceiling are piercing now, and Seokwoo’s vision swims nauseatingly. Youngkyun pushes a bit closer to him, curling against his side. The high they're working through isn't as sweet as it had been the night before. Seokwoo's ready to throw up.

His mind keeps trailing back to the program on his phone. He can’t figure out what to do. If he trusts Juho, he’s opening himself up to something that could hurt him. If he doesn’t, he could be closing thousands of doors of opportunity that the program could potentially open for him. 

But something’s off about the program. Seokwoo can feel it, swirling in the air like an electric storm. 

And, maybe it’s the drugs, casting another hallucination onto Seokwoo’s clouded senses, but he’s sure he can hear the program say one last thing before he closes his eyes, giving in to the pull of the Shock that makes his veins feel like they’re burning. His body’s splitting apart, atom by atom, each breath pushing him closer to a breaking point that he’s sure approaches rapidly.

_ “I need you to be sober - you need to help me.” _


	3. trophy eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work contains dark elements. Reader discretion is advised.  
> * Please refer to the work tags before proceeding to read this chapter.

“I’ve never done anything like this before...”

A woman sits in the passenger seat of a successful man’s luxurious black car, his hand trailing aimlessly up and down her thigh. Her stomach twists nervously - one wrong move and her cover’s blown. The man doesn’t know the secret of the viper in his vehicle, trained to destroy and lie cleverly to escape any situation. Doesn't know that the woman he touches is nothing but a falsified body weaving between her beautiful make believe life, that she's been raised from nothing to kill and conquer.

And, well, he’s her prime target. 

He’s just her type; the chief operating officer of a powerful up and coming corporation. Hao Tech was about to take off, but it had been too lucky in the past with how perfectly its advances had been timed. It was time for it to come crashing down, the night before its grand entrance onto the scene.

“I don’t even know your name,” he continues, laughing with disbelief that he’d taken the woman back to his car from the bar they’d met in. The woman’s nerves are alight with fear, praying his hand doesn’t stray any further upwards, that it won’t brush against the gun holstered to her upper thigh, hidden underneath her skimpy dress. The metal's cold against her skin, reminding her of her goal for the night with each slight movement she makes.

The first night of the Summer Exhibition was going to be bloody. She’s ready for it, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. 

The moment comes too quickly for her liking, when the man pulls onto a less populated road in the city, driving slowly before he turns into an alley. The woman sits forward slowly, hands clasped together in her lap as she eyes the surrounding area. 

No people, no cameras, no Androids. It's the perfect spot for her to ruin the bright, shimmering future of the man beside her, who nervously fidgets the wheel as he slows the vehicle.

She waits until the car’s stalled, the key falling into the console, before she begins to reach for her gun. The safety clicks off between her fingers when she lifts it, admiring the sleek, dark color of it before she takes aim.

The man hasn’t noticed. His eyes are closed as he leans over towards her, expecting something other than a bullet between his teeth.

The woman’s not deterred by the blood that stains her cheek when she pulls the trigger, spattering on her skin like a forceful kiss.

The gun’s placed sweetly back against her thigh, the cold steel kissing her skin as she slips out of the vehicle. She leaves the blood on her face, like a proud badge of what she’d caused. The kill was quick, painfully so. She would have drawn it out, played with him a bit before giving him what he deserved, but she had plans waiting for her at home.

Her car isn’t far; she’d gotten lucky with where the man had decided to drive to, where he'd unwillingly chosen to die. She leaves the alley, walking briskly down the pavement on the deserted street.

There’s a soft whisper of static in her ear before she’s able to hear a woman’s voice cut over the radio channel her Bluetooth was stationed to. 

_“How did it go? I see you’re leaving the Target.”_

“Easy,” she murmurs, voice cracking slightly as she’s forced to pitch it upwards, still unused to this new lie. She wants to be back in the body she was used to, that felt more real to her than the rest did.

 _“You sound great,”_ the woman sneers, _“just get out of there. A few police cars are gonna be patrolling nearby soon.”_

“Thanks for letting me know.”

_“Hurry.”_

She doesn’t need to repeat herself. The woman quickens her pace, turning down another street before she’s met with the sight of a parking garage. She runs to it now, breaking through the crowd to escape from the crime scene. Her heels click loudly on the pavement, and she stumbles over every other step she takes. She'd purely had a stroke of good luck that none of the thick crowd had ended up on the street she'd taken the hit on, and mentally thanks whoever had placed her in good fortune for the night.

Her car’s on the second floor, and she runs for it. It doesn't take long for her to reach it. She looks around before gently pressing her back against her car, reaching for her gun once more. Beside it in the holster is her keys, and she pulls them out quickly before unlocking the vehicle. She slips into the backseat, slamming and locking the door immediately behind herself. 

And when she looks around and confirms she’s alone, she kicks off her shoes and pulls off her dress before she reaches upwards and glazes her fingertip over her left eye, pulling away the contact that had been positioned over it previously. She winces when she pulls it away, hating the idea of anything being in her eye in the first place.

Her body distorts like a broken computer screen the moment the contact's removed, an illusion created by the eyepiece that fails now that the device had been taken away. A man fits into the space she’d occupied before, the only similarity between them being the Bluetooth in the man’s ear and the blood that prettily adorns his cheek. Dark red melts against his soft complexion, the only tell that he had been at the scene. The woman who killed the Hao Tech head was nowhere to be seen anymore.

_“All clear?”_

“Clear,” he hums, stretching, “man, I'll never get used to that shit...” He looks to the side, reaching for the clothes he’d left abandoned on the seat before he’d put in the contact the first time. He pulls on the dark hoodie quickly, slips on his jeans, and shoves his feet into the black sneakers that lay previously abandoned on the car’s floor. 

_“We’re lucky to have you. I’ll call you if another mission presents itself.”_

“Pay me.” He states bluntly, staring forward at the driver’s seat as he speaks, after he’s tugged on his clothes and he’s able to relax against the backseat. His shoes click against the heels he'd forced himself into only hours before, and in an annoyed manner he kicks them to the side, wanting nothing more to do with his mission.

The woman on the other line scoffs, but the man smirks when he hears a soft, happy notification tone come from his phone, which sits in the car’s glove box. It echoes throughout the quiet vehicle. _“Ten thousand.”_ She states the amount begrudgingly. 

“Seems a little much,” he hums, sitting forward before clambering into the front of the vehicle. “What’s the catch?”

_“Your target being taken off the playing field successfully opens up our options. We can go for OTO or Tsano now.”_

“I like the sound of that.”

_“I’ll be in contact with you again soon. Take care of yourself.”_

The static cuts away violently, as if smothered by the silence that follows it. The man raises his hand, wiping his hoodie sleeve against his cheek absently in hopes to clear away the blood that resides there.

He’s impatient to get home. He’d been working for six hours, two entailing him sitting alone at the bar in a body that he wasn't used to, while four more were spent on him attempting to get the Hao Tech operating officer to take him to his car. In all honesty, as much as he claims to hate his job, the pay is _fucking_ amazing. He can't complain. 

He's ready to end his shift, though. So he begins driving home, planning on drowning the night in a bottle of whiskey while he watches some shitty old movie with his boyfriend. 

As he drives, he realizes he’d never put the contact back in its case, and groans with discomfort as he feels it slide against his palm. “Fucking gross…” He growls, keeping one hand on the wheel while the one holding the white, silicone device falls into his lap. 

Everything about his job should make him sick. Killing, lying, using recalled tech to change his entire appearance and personality... It should disgust him. Yet, a part of it makes him feel powerful. He would never admit to it, but the work makes him feel different. It brings out a new side of him; he's a twenty sided dice, flipping constantly between who he is and what he feels, but he feels closest to normal when he's working. 

The drive back home isn't long. Soon he’s pulling into another parking garage, placed across the street from his beautiful, high-end apartment complex. He sighs when he’s able to find a parking space, which usually proved to be a difficult task, shutting his car off before leaning forward against the wheel. The contact he still holds in one hand drifts across his skin uncomfortably.

His job and his boyfriend’s combined had bought them everything they’d needed to feel comfortable. But it’s hard for him to feel at ease, even with the heavy security systems that guard the complex and the garage. Maybe it’s because he and his lover had infiltrated that security system so easily, been allowed inside even though they were both murderers.

Well, he was worse than his boyfriend in that regard, but the other was no saint. 

Yet, at the thought of him, the man is immediately jumping out of the car, feeling around in his jeans pocket for his contact’s case before he pulls out the small, circular object. He unscrews the cap, shoves the contact into it, and shuts it again tightly before shoving it back into his pocket. 

A young woman and a man walk towards another car nearby. His neighbors; one floor below his apartment exactly. The woman glances at the man passing, smiling. “Hey, Taeyang, haven’t seen you around in a while.”

Taeyang waves gently. The woman’s boyfriend stills. “Hey, is that… Are you okay? What’s on your face?”

“Oh,” Taeyang raises his hand as if he doesn’t know there’s still smears of blood drying on his skin. He brushes his fingertips against his cheek lightly. “Dirt, maybe? It was raining earlier, I was working in the gardens,” he lies, smiling innocently. “It’s probably just mud. I’ll go wash up.” The man smiles with relief. 

“Alright, well, it’s been good seeing you!” The other hums, his dark blue hair shimmering in the fluorescent lights of the parking garage. “Hyunah and I are heading to the next Tsano showcase, you wanna come with? You and Chanhee, it’ll be like a double date kinda thing,” the other man offers, his hair toyed with gently by the wind that blows through the garage.

“Ah, maybe tomorrow,” Taeyang declines politely, “we’ve been working all day. Thanks anyway, Hyo'.”

“Got it,” he smiles. “Well, we’ll see you!”

Taeyang turns around, his soft expression falling into one of annoyance as soon as he’s away from the couple. He _hates_ the small talk. Hates lying about working in a greenhouse on the nicer side of the city, hates acting like his life is normal when in reality it’s far from it. The edge of the twenty sided dice he falls on now couldn't be aligned farther from normal.

The hitman walks out of the garage, sneakers splashing through a deep puddle on the sidewalk outside. The air smells fresher, the sky a bit clearer than deeper in the city, where Taeyang had been prior on his mission. He glances across the street, cutting quickly in front of a car as he darts across the wet pavement. He waves apologetically when he runs out, jumping out of the street onto the other side of the road a moment later.

The entrance to the apartment building appears secluded, the path to the doorway from the street hidden by tall arches and clean white stone. Taeyang's comforted by the marble benches and borders that cage in small trees and flowers growing alongside the path, feeling safe when he's hidden inside the walls of the small garden. 

In all honesty, Taeyang hates lying about being normal, but deep down, he wishes he could be. The only constant among his range of different bodies is that wish, the yearning of living a normal life with a normal job and a normal relationship. It's all he could ever want, but it's something he'll never achieve.

Taeyang wants to be normal, secretly, but his life wouldn’t allow that. It made him question what normal was; if everybody had different versions of _normal,_ then did it really exist at all? His version of normal was slaughtering rotten CEOs and high ranking officials who wronged the general public. His elderly neighbor’s normal was going on walks with her annoying little purse dog, which always barked and growled at Taeyang when he was near it. 

Taeyang enters the complex slowly, grateful when he’s ignored by the staff behind the desk as he makes his way quickly to the elevators. He lives on the tenth floor, overlooking the city as a self-appointed vigilante (as he liked to refer to himself) should do.

The ride isn’t long, and before Taeyang knows it he’s happily unlocking his apartment door, bouncing impatiently on his heels as he does so. The moment he’s inside, with the door shut and locked securely behind himself, he’s hit by a wave of tiredness. The front he'd shown to the world is washed away immediately, and though he'd had plans to watch movies with his boyfriend, he's just ready to go to bed. The day hits him hard as soon as he's hidden from it behind his closed and locked apartment door.

There’s a soft clattering in the bathroom before Taeyang hears the lock on the door click, the doorknob sliding into the wood so it becomes inaccessible from the outside.

“Chanhee?” Taeyang calls, nervously approaching the room before he lays his knuckle against the door, leaning against it slowly. “You okay?"

Judging from the other’s silence, he isn’t. Taeyang normally wouldn't worry so badly, but he was never quiet. “Unlock the door,” he states sternly.

After a moment of silence, Chanhee still refusing to answer him, the doorknob clicks softly outwards. Taeyang opens the door slowly, cautiously looking around the room. Chanhee’s sitting on the edge of the sink, pressing a wet rag to his legs.

“What’s that?”

“It’s nothing.”

Taeyang sighs, shaking his head before he shuts the door and crosses the small space between the two. He places his hands on the other’s, gently drawing them up and away from his leg.

When the rag's pulled away, it reveals thick gashes, knife wounds that dip beneath the other’s soft skin. Blood seeps out of them the moment Taeyang relieves the pressure, and quickly he pushes the rag back down onto the slashes. “Fuck, Chanhee…” He whispers, eyebrows drawing downwards with concern as he holds the cloth down on the wounds.

“It’s fine.” 

“It’s _not_ fine!”

Chanhee grits his teeth, looking away as he presses his hands down further on his lap. Taeyang stares at the younger with disbelief. “You told me you stopped.”

The brunette on the edge of the sink shrugs, staring at the shower curtain on the other side of the room.

“Fuck… I don't even know what to say.” Taeyang places his palms gently against the other’s legs, trying to be soft with his actions though he knows the other won’t feel it. 

Chanhee had lived his life without feeling pain. He grew up sheltered, miraculously survived through his childhood though most others with the same disorder didn’t. At sixteen, he’d run away to the city. Something about the secluded, safe countryside or his parents being as distant as they could from him was upsetting. Or, maybe it was the mental facility he’d been forced into after trying to make himself feel _something_ that gave him the final push to run. Regardless, Chanhee had run like hell the moment he could, and Taeyang had never blamed him after learning about his past.

When Chanhee had watched Taeyang, unmasked by any technology, put a bullet effortlessly between a man’s eyes three days after arriving in the city, he realized he’d found somebody just as wrecked as he was. At first, Taeyang despised it. The boy was too young for him to kill, but he had been a witness. Each day Taeyang thought about the boy going to the police, collecting the cash reward out for anybody who had information on his target's murder.

But Chanhee had never been interested in that. On the third day of Taeyang finding that Chanhee waited for him outside of his cheap, rundown apartment, he’d finally caved, offering for the younger to come inside since the rain had begun to come down a bit rougher that morning. It hadn’t taken long before Chanhee picked up a job, or before Taeyang had cleared out a room for the runaway to sleep in. The younger had begun to help pay the rent ever so slightly. Taeyang had found comfort in his company.

Things went well for a while. Chanhee was closer to Taeyang’s perceived normal than he himself was, and so every minute he spent with the younger was like a dream to him. But as time passed, Chanhee began to change. 

Taeyang doesn’t remember how it happened, but Chanhee joined a gang. And, slowly, he’d made his way up the ranks, climbing up the rungs of the social ladder inside the group until he had positioned himself at the top, ready to kick away the leader and take his place at any given time.

There had been a rumor that Chanhee was the one to kill the leader when reports of his death came flooding in. And, as the second in command, the youngest of the gang had taken his place immediately, and had shouldered the uncomfortable weight of mistrust and accusation of killing the previous boss until their first meeting.

It had happened in their last apartment, the first time Chanhee snapped in front of Taeyang. They’d just found a new place to live, had everything packed and ready to go, and Chanhee had scheduled the meeting on their last night in the dingy, worn down complex. 

An older member of the gang, who had claimed to be there since the beginning, opposed Chanhee immediately. He’d begun spouting off about loyalty to the previous members, about how Chanhee was still just a kid, how a seventeen year old had no guts or authority over this group of grown and capable women and men. Chanhee had faced it without flinching, smiling even when the man finished.

And then he’d pulled out a gun, made a new home in the man’s shoulder for a bullet, and then shot himself in the foot directly after. Taeyang had watched it happen, frozen in place, eyes wide and horrified as the teenager acted on sheer impulse. He'd been stuck in the kitchen, far enough away from the gang to not draw attention to himself as Chanhee shot one of the most intimidating men in the room, then himself.

The room had been outraged by his first action, and silenced upon his second. Without missing a beat Chanhee had straightened his posture, unaffected by the bullet hole in his shoe or the blood pooling on the carpet underneath him, and began to go on about how _he_ was in charge now. How anybody who wanted to defy him wouldn’t be graced as the first man had been, who hadn’t been hit anywhere vital and who still lived. 

Now, Chanhee looks small. Eighteen and nervous, in a thick hoodie and shorts, on the edge of a bathroom sink with blood dribbling down his thighs and calves. 

“You can’t be doing this…”

“I just,” Chanhee brings a hand up, raking it through his hair, “I just want to feel it.” 

“You won’t.” Taeyang has no idea how to talk the other down. Being gentle and offering help never did anything in the many times Taeyang had found the younger in this state. He doesn’t want to be mean and shove his feelings to the side, but the facts stare at the younger while he stares through them. “Chanhee, you are _never_ going to feel it.”

The younger’s silent again, looking at Taeyang with something angry subdued in his gaze. “No matter what you do, you’re not gonna feel it. I…” Taeyang blows out his breath sharply. “I know it sucks, but _this,”_ he motions to the rag, to the blood soaking his hands and the other’s legs, “this isn’t the way to go about it. I don't know what to do," he speaks slowly, calmly as to not disturb the other further though his heart races and he's frankly _terrified_ the other's still doing this to himself. He'd been convinced Chanhee had stopped months before, and now doubts that any time between then and now the other had been clean. "I'm trying my best to keep you safe, but..." Taeyang's voice trails off.

“I never asked for you to-“ Chanhee starts, defiance dripping from his tone before Taeyang shuts him down.

“-I don’t _give a fuck_ what you asked for." His gaze hardens immediately, tone following suit until it's aggressive enough to shut Chanhee up, at least for a moment. Taeyang had never met anybody as stubborn as the younger. " _I_ took you in. _I’m_ the one who protected you when you couldn’t do it yourself. _I’m_ responsible for you.” 

“You aren’t-“

“-Don’t argue with me.” Taeyang starts, dropping his tone into a calmer state once again so as to not irritate the other any further. “Don’t. You need to think.”

Chanhee pulls his lips together tightly, looking away once again. Taeyang frowns. 

“It sucks, but it's life. But it's not like you’re alone.” Taeyang takes a hand off of the younger’s lap, carding his fingertips reassuringly through the other’s soft, brown hair. 

Chanhee looks back to Taeyang, and the latter sighs when he realizes he’s not getting a response. “If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. I’m not gonna force you to.” He crouches down and opens the cabinet under the sink, digging through the mess until he pulls out a bottle of antiseptic and a package of gauze, thankful he’d had the foresight to buy the products weeks ago on one of his grocery runs. 

“I won’t force you to talk.” He repeats, gently lifting Chanhee’s hands and the rag away. The wounds are deep, but won’t need stitches. Taeyang begins to wet one piece of gauze with the antiseptic, before gently letting it soak over the wounds. “And I’ll always be here to help you. But this…” Taeyang pulls the dirty gauze away before wetting a new, cleaner fabric to press against the injuries, wiping it over the younger’s legs carefully. “You’re gonna end up hurting yourself really bad one day, and I won’t be here in time. Don’t do that to me,” he scrunches his face up, hating looking weak in front of the younger. Taeyang doesn’t allow himself to cry; crying is weak, and weak gets you killed. "I really don't know what to say. I'm sorry, I'm not mad. I'm just worried, Chanhee."

“I’m sorry.”

Taeyang looks up to the younger. All they do is stare at each other, one's eyes full of nothing while the other's are confused and distraught. Taeyang can't even tell if the other had meant his apology, from how monotonous his voice was, but knew how hard it was for Chanhee to apologize for anything. He pulls his lips together tightly, looking back down at the younger's legs before continuing to work on them. Chanhee doesn't say anything to deter him, but his fingertips clench the edge of the sink beside his legs absently. 

Genuinely, Taeyang can't figure out what to say. The other's upset, though he won't admit to it, and he doesn't want to irritate him further. He knows he needs to wait until later to bring up getting help, or bringing up how genuinely terrified he is to lose the younger.

"Are you okay?" Taeyang cringes at the question. He obviously isn't.

Chanhee shrugs. "I mean," Taeyang's eyes widen when the other speaks, shocked that he's ready to own up to his feelings. Chanhee had always buried them, and lashed out whenever he'd been urged to open up. "I dunno."

"If you want to talk about it-"

"-I don't know." Chanhee repeats, shaking his head. Taeyang looks up, the motions of his hands slowing slightly when he sees how conflicted the other is. "I don't... I can't tell what I'm feeling. It's overwhelming."

Taeyang nods, looking back down at the injuries. They're nearly cleaned fully, but Taeyang still works the gauze over them, wanting to be absolutely sure they're clean before he wraps them. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Again, Chanhee shrugs. He closes his eyes before leaning back slightly, lifting his legs slightly when Taeyang begins to wipe down the blood from his knees and calves. "I don't know."

Gently, Taeyang presses for him to continue speaking, to work out his emotions in a more healthy way before he shuts down again. "Are you angry?"

"A bit," Chanhee murmurs, "I don't know. I don't want to talk about it. I'm sorry."

"Talk about it when you're ready to." Taeyang says, grateful that the other had opened up even if it was only slightly. When he finishes cleaning the wounds, the dark haired man begins to wrap longer pieces of the gauze around the younger’s legs, holding them gently as he pulls on the cloth tightly. “Is this the only place?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he murmurs before kneeling back down, finished with wrapping the wounds. He shoves the antiseptic bottle and plastic package of gauze back underneath the sink, standing a moment later. He knows trying to get anywhere else with Chanhee will prove pointless. The other's closed again, the emotion that once peeked around the corner of his toughly built walls having disappeared behind them once again. “I’m gonna take a shower, then. Are you gonna be okay?” His fingertips drift against the other’s cheek gently. Chanhee nods, and Taeyang helps him down from where he's sitting on the edge of the sink. "Okay. Go lay down, maybe get some water... Have you eaten yet?" Guiltily, Chanhee shakes his head. “I’ll make something in a little bit, then. Go get some water, lay down for a while…” He repeats. His tone’s gentle now, full of soft worry for the other’s condition. 

“I’m sorry.” Chanhee whispers, shame lighting his face red like a fire.

Taeyang presses his lips gently to the other’s cheek, shaking his head slowly. "We'll figure this out," Taeyang promises, drawing the other gently against his chest. "I promise."

* * *

Chanhee's worst fear is repressed deep within himself.

Most of the memories are buried, trauma tucked away that he will never be able to recall. But then there’s the rare moments. The flashes that haunt him, that make his skin crawl whenever Taeyang brings up getting help or insinuates towards it. Chanhee knows he means well, but at the same time his fear plagues him and leaves him trembling when nobody's around to see.

Chanhee remembers screaming until his throat was dry, struggling in the leather bindings that held him fast to a hospital bed. He remembers being sedated, blacking out and waking up on what he assumes now was a set schedule.

Too difficult to control, too fucked up to really fix. But his parents had money, and didn’t care enough to check in frequently to the institution they’d shoved their only son into. If they weren’t coming to check on him, and he was too much of a hassle for the staff, he would simply be put under.

He remembers waking up earlier than expected once, remembers seeing the window opened just a crack to air out the stuffy room. 

If the nurse hadn't entered the room when she did... Chanhee pulls Taeyang’s blankets closer, wrapping them tighter around himself like a shield.

It’s not that he wants to feel pain. He just wants to feel _something_. He's too afraid to let his emotions out, in fear that he'll be pushed away once again. So he keeps them bottled up, and in turn finds himself growing unfamiliar with each emotion he encounters when it rises to the surface. Sometimes things come naturally - there are nights when he feels better, but then nights like tonight come and ruin the streak he'd upheld where he'd begun to feel better,

He’d been numb since being let out of the hospital, since he’d packed a bag and run like hell to the city. And, only days after he'd met Taeyang, watched him shoot a man in the head and smile when the job was done. 

When Chanhee had watched Taeyang break into a content smile, blood staining his clothes messily as he looked down at the mess he’d created, he knew he’d stumbled upon somebody important. Taeyang was just like him - broken and unable to be fixed. A hollowed out, jumbled mess of confusion and unknowing. 

They were the same, except Taeyang still felt pain, and Chanhee maimed himself for fun. 

Chanhee hears the shower turn off, and moments later the bedroom door’s pushed open from the shut position Chanhee had forced it into. 

“Oh, here you are.” Taeyang hums, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Chanhee looks up to him, blinking tiredly. 

When he’d said he wanted to feel something, he didn’t want it to be guilt. It’s all he feels now, overwhelming him completely when he looks at the older. But he knows he caused it, knows that he'd fucked up and hurt both of them because of it. 

“What? Does my hair look bad?” Taeyang glances back, eyeing himself in the mirror on the cabinet through the dark of the bedroom. “Why are you looking at me like that?” He smiles, clearly attempting to get the other to brighten his expression, as well.

“I’m sorry,” Chanhee murmurs, lowering his gaze slowly. Taeyang walks over to the bed, stepping around it before sliding onto the other side. Chanhee feels a pair of stronger arms wrap around his waist before drawing him backwards.

“Stop apologizing to me,” Taeyang mutters, pulling the younger flush against his chest, holding him like he’s a doll. 

“I just don’t understand why you’d stay with me.” Chanhee starts suddenly, eyes widening when he realizes what he’d said. 

Taeyang falls silent before sighing, burying his face into the crook of the other’s neck. “You think I’d leave you because you’re not in a good place?” Chanhee winces. Taeyang continues. “Idiot.” He squeezes the other gently, shaking his head. “What kind of a boyfriend would I be if I left you because of that?"

“Sorry-”

“-Please stop apologizing to me.” Taeyang huffs. “You don’t owe me any apologies. We’re gonna figure this out and get you the _correct_ help.” 

Chanhee nods dully, remembering pulling against his restraints until the drugs knocked him out.

“And I’m going to be right beside you the entire time.” Taeyang informs softly, breaking the image Chanhee’s conjured up harshly. “We can sign you up for online counselling, if that’ll be more comfortable. You won’t have to be scared.”

The other’s tone is soothing. Chanhee nods, squirming until he’s turned around so he can grab onto the other’s shirt tightly. He hates how sensitive he must seem to the other, and murmurs out a soft “thank you” before closing his eyes. 

“I love you.” Taeyang hums, smiling against the other’s shoulder. “Anything you need, okay? Just help me look into it all, I don't want to decide on anything you won't be okay with."

“I love you, too.” Chanhee mumbles, moving closer to the other. "Thank you."

Taeyang feels safe to Chanhee. 

Chanhee squeezes his eyes closed when Taeyang pulls away, peppering kisses against the younger’s face dotingly. Not an inch of his skin is left untouched by the other’s love, trailed gently over his cheeks and temple before Taeyang pulls back against him. 

“I know it’s hard,” he whispers against the other’s cheek, firmly placing his hands against the other’s back. “But just hold on for-”

Taeyang’s cut off by a soft ringing nearby, and he groans as he buries his face against Chanhee’s shoulder. The soft, melodramatic sound of a piano plays through the room hauntingly.

“Your phone?”

“My work phone,” Taeyang grumbles, frowning as he pulls away, “they’re gonna call me in or something.”

Chanhee frowns, sitting up when the other does. “Can’t you tell them you’re busy? Or tired?”

Taeyang shakes his head, sliding back over the bed before reaching back towards the nightstand on his side of the room. The table lights up under his touch, but turns off quickly when his phone’s removed from the display screen underneath it. 

“Hello?” Taeyang murmurs, answering the call before pressing the device to his ear. “What’s up?”

Chanhee doesn’t strain to hear the conversation, already knowing what’s going to be said. He falls forward against the other, who catches and swings him around, pressing his chest against the younger’s back, holding him tightly. 

“Um… Yeah, that’s okay,” Taeyang hums, his low, tired voice making his chest rumble as he speaks. Chanhee closes his eyes, sighing as he lays his head back against the other. “Tomorrow? Isn’t that…”

Taeyang’s breath hitches. Chanhee opens a curious eye, remaining silent. He’s sure he sees the other’s lips tremble. 

“That’s really risky.” He pauses. His lips definitely tremble, but he pushes out a humorless laugh as he raises a hand off of Chanhee’s hip, raking it roughly through his still wet hair. “That’s... Knowing that, you still want me going in?”

After another bout of silence, Taeyang lowers his hand back down onto Chanhee’s side. “No, it’s, uh… It’s fine. I can do it. Send me the information.”

The call ends, and Taeyang drops the device from his ear onto the comforter. Chanhee doesn’t need to ask him what the call was about - he already knows, and Taeyang wastes no time before he begins muttering about the job he’d been asked to complete. 

“I just got the hit on one of the heads of OTO.”

“That’s great,” Chanhee muses, rolling his shoulders back against the other’s chest. “You can handle that.”

“I’m supposed to do it before their showcase tomorrow night.”

Chanhee’s expression falls. “They’re gonna be surrounded by security-”

“-Yeah. Doubled security, actually. They know he’s the next target.”

“How? That’s really bad. Do you want some of my guys there? Backup?”

“Oh, I’m _very_ aware.” Taeyang hums, wrapping his legs around the other before he falls, dragging Chanhee down with him onto the bed. “No, I can handle it. Just think of the _pay_ …” The last word leaves his mouth wistfully, carried gently by the slight draft in the room. It ruffles Chanhee’s hair, Taeyang’s breath warm on the back of his neck. “That’ll pay our rent for _months_ …”

“Is it worth you being in that much danger, though?”

“I have a plan!” Taeyang starts. 

“Does it involve getting arrested?” Chanhee grins.

“Of course not!” Taeyang scoffs, shaking his head as he presses ever closer to Chanhee, his lips moving against the back of the other’s neck as he speaks in his hushed, calming tone. “Of course not,” he repeats lowly. "I've never been caught before."

Chanhee shrugs. "I mean, that doesn't mean you won't ever get caught."

Taeyang laughs, airy breaths washing gently over Chanhee. The younger shivers, but leans back further against the other, relishing in the feeling of being so close to him. "You doubt me?"

"I wouldn't say _doubt_... You're just kind of an idiot sometimes." Chanhee quips, earning a playful gasp from Taeyang.

"Oh, _I'm_ the idiot?" Taeyang's voice becomes teasing. "I mean, I'm not the one who gave a cat to a guy with a deadly cat allergy, but go ahead... Call me the idiot."

"I told you never to bring that up."

"You literally said 'hey here's the cat you're always raging about wanting' and then his face swelled up. You made a gang man cry."

Chanhee buries his face in his hands, remembering the day all too well. It had been such a nice day before he'd opened the back door of Taeyang's car and grabbed the little cat carrier, presenting it proudly to one of his members. He tries not to remember needing to drive the man to the hospital, the cat _still_ in the car with them as they'd had nowhere else to leave it. "At least Jaeyoon got sweet little Huru from the shelter." Chanhee grumbles.

"Your member nearly died."

"And so I gave his cat to somebody else," Chanhee hums, gasping when he feels Taeyang squeeze his sides gently. He looks over his shoulder to the other, who closes his eyes and parts his lips softly before connecting them slowly to the younger's. The kiss only lasts a moment, chaste and nothing else, before Taeyang pulls away. Chanhee's eyes widen slightly before he turns around in the other's arms, clinging to his shirt as he looks up and into the other's gentle eyes. "Do it again."

"Do what again?" Taeyang raises an eyebrow, curiously eyeing the other. "What are you talking about?"

"Taeyang-"

The older raises the blankets around them, still keeping up the act. "Go to bed, Chanhee. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Taeyang that's not fair."

"Chanhee," Taeyang draws the blankets up around them, biting back a smile. "I really don't know what you're talking about."

"Yoo Taeyang, I swear to God-"

"-Kang Chanhee." Taeyang pecks his lips against the younger's, closing his eyes when he pulls away. "Come on, it's late. If we wake up early enough we can do something fun before I have to go to work."

Chanhee hums absently, the summer heat making the space between him, Taeyang and the blankets uncomfortable, but he's unable to pull away. Instead, he closes his eyes and rests his head on Taeyang's arm, which outstretches gently behind him. "You think going to the museum is fun."

"And what do you think's fun?"

"Fun things."

"Then you choose." Taeyang presses his lips against Chanhee's forehead one last time before settling down against the pillows. "Goodnight."

Something feels wrong.

Chanhee doesn't understand why he feels so nervous, but even though Taeyang's protective arms hold him close, he's afraid. 

"Goodnight."


	4. reckless / defensive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work contains dark elements. Reader discretion is advised.

Inseong doesn’t know what to believe. 

Sanghyuk’s human: he whines softly about a headache as he presses his palm to the side of his head, pouting as he leans back against the couch. When he feels awkward, which Inseong realizes happens much too often, he rubs his knees together slightly and crosses his arms while looking towards the ground. Yet, it doesn’t coincide with when he snaps suddenly, his attitude jumping erratically from one emotion to the other. He carries himself carefully, but at the drop of a dime he explodes.

Inseong feels that he can learn a lot about Sanghyuk just from watching him. He does so now idly, looking up from his phone every so often to peer at the other, who lays with his eyes closed on the other couch in the living room, his hand still clasped harshly against the side of his head.

Sanghyuk cracks an eye open after another moment, seemingly sensing the way Inseong watches him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Inseong hums, returning his attention to his phone. 

“You were staring.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

Inseong looks up again when he hears the other shift, smiling when he sees Sanghyuk pulling a throw blanket that had been hung over the edge of the couch onto himself. 

“Well, if you’re gonna be like that…” Sanghyuk murmurs, hiding behind the blanket as he curls up on his side further. “Hope I’m entertaining to watch.”

“You’re not.” Inseong quips. “Super boring. I’ve seen better.”

Sanghyuk hums, hugging the blanket slightly. “Sorry, I’ll try harder.” He closes his eyes, nuzzling his face slightly against the couch as he gets comfortable. “Will make sure that I’m the only guy you want to look at…” 

Inseong nods, leaning back. “I look forward to it,” he murmurs dismissively, turning his phone off and on idly as he debates on what he should do. He feels like doing something productive, but nothing seems appealing. With Sanghyuk attempting to sleep, though, Inseong realizes he can’t do much of anything without worrying about waking him up or being too loud to keep him from falling asleep.

He slips quietly off of the couch and walks to his room, setting his phone on the nightstand before falling forward onto his bed. The A/C hanging on the wall pumps cold air out into the dark room, and he sighs as he stares at the curtains hanging down in front of the window. They’re lit up from the outside, sunlight attempting to pool into the room. A vibrant red hue colors the dark atmosphere inside the bedroom as the natural light is blocked out harshly by the ruddy cloth hanging before the windows.

Inseong sighs, rolling onto his back before closing his eyes. 

His previous thoughts come back slowly, seeping into his mind thickly. Sanghyuk’s an Android: the tattoo on his neck and the OTO shackles that had been wrapped around his legs the night before are an obvious giveaway to the fact. His emotions change so drastically because he’s glitching. He’s been programmed to act the way he does; everything about him should be working, but he has a bug and he’s currently just busted. He needs to be fixed.

Inseong can’t assume that the other is either an Android or a human, and finds himself stuck in an uncomfortable in-between state on what he believes the other to be: he’s not a human nor an Android, he’s both and neither at the same time. Sanghyuk is a complete mystery to him.

Before Inseong can debate with himself further, his thoughts are interrupted by Sanghyuk shouting suddenly from the living room.

He sits up just as Sanghyuk does, and watches as the man forces his palm against the side of his head once again, squeezing his eyes shut as if it’ll do something against the persistent pain. Inseong watches him through the doorway, slowly sliding off of his bed before crossing the room to reach him.

“What’s going on?” He tries, but stops as soon as Sanghyuk shakes his head, the dark haired man gritting his teeth together roughly. 

“It fucking hurts...”

“I can get you some painkillers,” Inseong whispers, trying to keep his voice low to avoid irritating the other’s head further. He leaves the other behind, walking to the bathroom to dig through the cabinet underneath his sink as he searches for anything that may help soothe the other’s pain.

He returns a moment later to Sanghyuk with a white bottle in hand, and gently takes two pills from inside of it before kneeling beside the couch. The container clicks loudly as Inseong shuts it, and he apologizes before raising his hand, pressing one of the pills to Sanghyuk’s lips. “Here,” he urges softly.

Sanghyuk looks up hesitantly, cautious eyes watching Inseong before he finally gives in, parting his lips to allow Inseong to give him the pill.

“You must’ve hurt it last night,” Inseong tries to offer some form of explanation for the sudden outburst, though it does nothing to help the situation. “Those should help, okay?”

Sanghyuk nods, closing his eyes once again before scoffing. “Man… This just sucks.”

Inseong agrees, handing the second pill to Sanghyuk to allow him to take it himself as he stands. “I’ll get you some water, hold on a second.”

He tries to be as quiet as he can as he leaves the living room. Though, when he reaches up to grab a glass, it clinks against the other cups loudly. He grits his teeth before carefully pulling out the clean glass from the cabinet, filling it quickly at the sink with cold water before making his way back to Sanghyuk.

“Here,” he mumbles gently, pressing the cold cup into Sanghyuk’s hands. “Do you think you hurt yourself last night?” Sanghyuk shrugs. Inseong frowns. “I think I might have a medpack in my bathroom… Do you want me to make sure you don’t have a concussion?”

“That’s asking too much,” Sanghyuk shakes his head. Inseong smiles softly, scoffing.

“Come on, that’s nonsense. Give me a second,” he leaves the living room once again, instead making his way back to the bathroom before crouching down to rifle through the cabinet under his sink once again. He pulls his arm out finally, a black bag in his hand before he nods gently in thought.

“I’ve got one,” he calls softly, turning off the bathroom light before heading back towards Sanghyuk. “Alright, let me see…”

Sanghyuk blushes, embarrassment lighting his face underneath the pain that still writhes on his features. Inseong opens up the black bag quickly, pulling out a small white device with a screen on one side and a small, black glass sheet on the other side. He squints at the device, trying to remember how to use it as he’d never truly needed it for himself. He faces the screen towards himself, gently pressing the other side to Sanghyuk’s head before pressing a button underneath his finger.

“Oh!” Inseong exclaims when the screen flashes on, a small blinking dot in the center of the old, dusty display. “Oh, this still works…”

The device is rather old; Inseong only had one because he’d thought maybe he’d be grateful for the purchase one day. Handheld medical scanners were much cheaper now than they had been in the past, and sometimes Inseong wishes he’d waited on buying one since it had been a riskier purchase when he’d initially gotten one.

The device flashes a green light on the display screen, but a moment later it turns red. Inseong cocks his head to the side curiously, unsure of what the sudden change means. “Do you know how to read one of these-”

He’s cut off by the device beginning to scream, a loud wail coming out of it as the light on the display screen continues to blink red. Sanghyuk jumps backwards, startled by the sound as Inseong panickily pulls the device away and attempts to turn it off.

It stays on no matter how many times Inseong presses the off button, and in a last ditch effort to shut the device down he smashes it against the floor. It blinks off instantly when it hits the ground.

“What the hell was that!?” Sanghyuk questions. Inseong shrugs, raising his hands defensively.

“I don’t know,” he laughs nervously, “maybe you have a fracture or something?”

"Some fracture if _that's_ how it alerts you..."

The device had glitched. Inseong doesn’t know why - usually the medical tools worked rather well. He decides he’ll chalk it up to the tool being unused and abandoned in his cabinet for so long, but… 

He can’t help but feel like something’s wrong about the way it had shrieked. Like there had been interference somehow; another strong device butchering the signals somehow and causing it to wail so violently.

“Ah, how’s your head? That must’ve been really loud for you.” Inseong mumbles, pressing his knuckles gently against the other’s temple. “You can rest in my room if the pain’s too bad.” He offers softly. Sanghyuk’s eyes widen.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I really feel like I’m asking too much of you, I-”

“You’re not  _ asking _ for anything.” Inseong hums. “I’m offering, so why-”

Inseong jumps when he hears a soft knock at the front door, cutting off his words sharply. 

Sanghyuk hears it as well, and stills immediately at the sound of whoever’s behind the door. Inseong places a comforting hand on his shoulder, shaking his head as if to answer the silent question of  _ who is it? _

“It’s probably nothing,” he assures, glancing down at Sanghyuk as he stands. His heart races slightly. “I’m sure it’s nothing.

Inseong approaches the kitchen slowly, and opens the door as soon as the handle’s in reach.

A woman in a business suit looks back at him from beyond the door, smiling. There’s two men at her sides, and a white truck behind her parked on the edge of the street.

She seems tired, dark circles under her eyes that her makeup can’t cover up showing prominently against her pale face. Her blonde hair frames her face in strands. 

“Hello,” she bows politely, to which Inseong curiously returns the gesture, “we’ve had reports of an unlicensed Android in this area. We were hoping we may be able to take a look around the premises to make sure there isn’t one on your property?”

Inseong’s heart stalls. He’s sure it does - he grips the doorknob tightly in his fist, his pulse rising violently in his throat. His mind races with the possibilities of what could happen to him.

They’re gonna find Sanghyuk. Sanghyuk’s an Android. He’s going to be arrested. 

It takes everything in Inseong not to look towards Sanghyuk, who sits deathly still on the edge of the couch. He can just barely see the dark haired man out of the corner of his eye, but from the stale energy in the room, he knows he’d heard the woman clearly. “Do you have a search warrant?” Inseong asks as calmly as he can, crossing his arms.

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean no disrespect,” Inseong tries coolly, realizing he’d appeared too defensive previously, “I just mean… It’s a bit of a mess right now.” He turns then to look further into the house, making sure his gaze scans the room instead of sticking completely on Sanghyuk. Said man stares back at him with horrified eyes. “And I’m not letting strangers into my house unless they have a warrant.”

“Of course,” the woman smiles, “unfortunately, we don’t have one at the moment, but we’ll come back with one.”

“You can look around outside, if you’d like,” Inseong offers, trying to appear collected as he flashes a relieved smile to the woman. “But I haven’t seen anything suspicious. My neighbors have an annoying asss little dog, though, if you’re interested in taking that bastard out of here.”

“Well, I don’t think I’m qualified for that,” she smiles, looking towards the men beside her for a moment. Her face darkens when she does, her grin fading easily before she turns back to Inseong and replaces it. “Thank you,” the woman hums. “We’ll be in touch,” she bows once again, but pauses before she turns to leave. “Is… Your face alright?”

“Huh? Oh!” Inseong’s hand jumps up to cover the bruise on his nose, and he nods. “I got into a disagreement at work,” he laughs, noting the curious expression the woman holds. “I’m a security guard.” The added information makes her nod, the curiosity fading rather quickly. It’s replaced by an unsubdued, worried caution.

“I see.” She smiles, waving softly before leaving. “We’ll be in touch!” She repeats over her shoulder, and Inseong nods before he shuts the door.

Sanghyuk doesn’t even need to ask. Inseong turns to look at him with panicked eyes.

“You know that harboring an unlicensed Android is like,  _ really _ illegal, right?” Inseong starts, tone low as he looks back at the window, making sure nobody’s looking through the other side of the glass. “You need to hide.”

“I’m human-”

“-that doesn’t matter right now.” Inseong starts. “They’re looking for  _ you _ .”

“How do we know they’re looking for  _ me _ specifically?”

Inseong doesn’t know it for certain, but it all oddly made sense to him. Sanghyuk crashed through his window the night before, the OTO label displayed proudly against his tanned skin, and now a woman who he assumes to be from OTO was looking for an unlicensed Android. It was too coincidental.

“Hide.” Inseong repeats, moving to leave the kitchen to walk back to Sanghyuk, who stands slowly from the edge of the couch.

Inseong doesn’t make it past the table before the front door is thrown open, before he’s thrown sharply forward. He lands against Sanghyuk, both of them stumbling before hitting the floor.

“Inseong..!”

“Sorry!” Inseong gasps, wincing as he pushes himself up on his palms. He looks back over his shoulder, eyes narrowing at the sight of a gun trained on him, one of the men from before holding it. The woman isn’t there, but the two who had accompanied her are. “I told you to come back with a  _ warrant _ ,” Inseong spits, narrowing his eyes.

“Stand up slowly, with your hands above your head.”

“Put the gun down-”

“-Get the fuck up!”

Inseong’s eyes widen at the sudden outburst, and he glances down at Sanghyuk. The dark haired man averts his gaze, guilt written across his features thickly. It’s in the way he bites his lip, the way he forces himself to stare at the floor though Inseong can tell he’s straining not to look back up at him.

Slowly, Inseong stands, raising his hands. He keeps his back to the strangers, keeping his eyes locked on Sanghyuk.

The dark haired man looks up to him. Inseong’s expression softens. “Run,” he whispers, jerking his head ever so slightly in the direction of his bedroom. He doesn’t know why he’s so adamant on helping Sanghyuk, but he knows that he can’t let the other get caught. If he does, then the little he’d done so far, and what’s evident to come, would be for nothing.

“I’m sorry, Inseong, I-”

“Go.” Inseong interrupts, gasping when he feels his hands get ripped down and pinned behind his back. Sanghyuk jumps up, running towards Inseong’s room before looking back at him for what Inseong assumes may be the last time. “Go! Fucking go!”

“I’m sorry!” Sanghyuk shouts, panicked as he dips into the bedroom and slams the door behind himself. Inseong winces as his arms are drawn tighter behind himself and bound. 

“Damnit! Jihoon, go after him! I’ll handle this one.”

“Oh, leave all of the bullshit to me…” The man who had originally been training the gun on Inseong runs towards the bedroom, clearly annoyed at the other’s distribution of work.

Inseong refuses to look away from the door when it opens. He cranes his neck to see into the room, a satisfied grin breaking out onto his face when he sees the window opened, and no trace of Sanghyuk left in the room. 

He’s dragged backwards to the door, the grip on his arms tight and painful. Inseong knows better than to fight back; he’s already fucked for letting Sanghyuk stay with him, and he’d rather not add assault to his case file.

He’s taken outside. The first sign that points Inseong in the direction that he’s not being arrested is the fact that the woman from before leans against the vehicle, the back doors opened as she watches Inseong being dragged out. A cigarette hangs from her lips, her arms crossed nonchalantly over her chest.

It’s not her stance that alerts Inseong to the fact that something’s wrong - it’s her words.

“Make sure you fuck up the place a bit, make it look like a break-in. The neighbors are all out, so don’t worry about being loud. Nobody’s around to hear anyway.”

Inseong widens his eyes, about to interject before he’s shoved into the back of the van. He shouts in alarm, sitting up quickly before tugging against his restraints. Who the  _ fuck  _ were these people?

He’s only able to see outside for a moment longer, before the door slams shut and he’s wrapped in darkness. The truck is hot and uncomfortable; Inseong looks around in an attempt to make out anything around him, but he can’t see much of anything in the dark. 

“Hey!” He shouts warningly, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to come up with anything that could get him out of the back of the vehicle. His mind races with possibilities once again; he’s being arrested. He’s being kidnapped. He’s…

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down in order to assess the situation more logistically. He’s not being arrested; these people had no warrant to search or enter his home, and the police wouldn’t be this messy. That leaves kidnapping; which, obviously, seems most likely. Inseong tries to come up with reasons why Sanghyuk  _ and _ himself would be targeted, and why they wouldn’t simply go for the Android.

Unless they planned on turning Inseong in themselves? But they had no proof, surely, that he’d harbored Sanghyuk. Turning him in to the police may fall through - there’d be no guarantee in him being arrested unless they had proof, so why take him as well?

He hears somebody walking towards the vehicle from the outside, and Inseong squints in preparation for when the back door opens again. And, when it does, he lunges for the exit immediately.

A body slams into his, and he lands on his back with Sanghyuk on top of him. In the brief flash of light that floods the back of the vehicle, Inseong manages to see that the other’s wrists and mouth are bound, silencing and restricting him against fighting back.

The doors slam shut once more, and Inseong hears a lock click from somewhere inside of them.

“Fuck…” Inseong breathes, sitting up as best as he can with Sanghyuk still on top of him. “Hey, you got anything sharp on you? How’d they get you?”

Inseong’s can barely see the other in the dark. He squints, and when he feels the other roll off of his lap and hit the floor loudly, he realizes he’s unconscious. “Oh, fuck me… You would be unconscious, that’s just my luck.”

Inseong shifts his arms behind his back, rolling his wrists slowly in the cloth restraint in hopes of loosening it. “Come on…” He mumbles, closing his eyes as he jerks his wrists back and forth. 

It takes a few minutes, but Inseong manages to create a large enough space between the cloth and his skin to slip his hands through. He smirks, letting the cloth fall before he quickly grabs Sanghyuk and pulls him back up against himself.

Sanghyuk sways slightly in his grip, and Inseong quickly tears the cloth away from his mouth. 

“Inseong?”

“Hey,” Inseong murmurs, gasping when he feels the vehicle pitch forward. He stumbles, but regains himself quickly. “Hey, do you know what the fuck this is?”

“No… Are we in a car?” Sanghyuk’s voice is groggy and distant, and he leans forward slightly against Inseong.

“Yeah.” Inseong reaches back and around the other, feeling for the ties around his wrists in hopes to set his hands free. His plan falls through immediately when he feels metal underneath his fingertips. “Shit. Okay,” Inseong lets go of Sanghyuk when the other manages to sit upright, and he raises a hand to rub against his mouth lightly. “Okay, fuck…”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Fuck, uh…” Inseong squeezes his eyes closed, shaking his head as he tries to come up with a way to get out of the vehicle. The back doors are locked, and he doesn’t trust forcing them open while the truck’s in motion. He’d need to wait until they parked and opened the doors themselves, but even then his and Sanghyuk’s escape isn’t guaranteed. Sanghyuk can’t fight - that leaves Inseong against three people, and potentially more if there were others waiting on their arrival.

“How should we handle this?” Inseong scoffs, groaning at the heat in the back of the vehicle. “Damn, it’s hot…” 

Sanghyuk doesn’t answer. He rocks slightly with each move the vehicle makes, his body limp as he sits in front of Inseong.

“We’ll get out of this.” Inseong assures him, reaching forward to gently run his finger against Sanghyuk’s cheek. “I don’t know what the hell  _ this _ is, but we’ll get out of it, but you have to work with me here. Okay?”

Sanghyuk still doesn’t answer. Inseong sighs.

“It’s  _ really  _ fucking hot in here,” Inseong complains, the dark, warm air suffocating him the longer he focuses on it. He feels a bead of sweat drip down his forehead and scoffs. “They have to have a fucking heater on or something… This is sadistic.” 

The car hits a stop suddenly, and Sanghyuk lurches forward into Inseong harshly. The older gasps, catching him quickly. “You okay?” 

He doesn’t expect an answer, but grows worried still when he doesn’t get one. “Hey, I know it’s scary, but we’re gonna be fine. Why won’t you talk to me?”

Inseong’s hand brushes against the side of Sanghyuk’s head, and it comes away slightly wet. It’s not sweat; it’s thick and though the car’s dark, Inseong’s eyes have begun to adjust and he can see dark spots on his fingertips.

“Are you bleeding?” Inseong mutters, his hand jumping back up to press against the other’s face. “Christ, you are… Okay, uh,” he drops his hand to search on the dark floor of the car for the cloth he’d had wrapped around his wrists. It takes him a moment to find it, but when he does he raises it and quickly presses it against the other’s head. “Here, it’s okay. What did they do to you?”

Inseong’s left without an answer once again, and he shakes his head as he presses the cloth tighter to the other’s head. The car moves around them softly once again as it continues driving. “It’ll be okay.”

* * *

The heat becomes too much to bear. 

Inseong had lost track of how much time they’d been stuck in the vehicle, his eyes growing heavier the longer he’s focused on the warmth surrounding him. They’re doing it on purpose - he’s sure of it. He isn’t sure he’ll be strong enough to fight back if they keep the heat on; his body’s beginning to grow groggy.

Sanghyuk still hadn’t said anything to him. 

Inseong leans back against the wall, breathing heavily as the heat continues to wash over him. 

“I’m starting to think this is really bad,” Inseong laughs, giving in and closing his eyes. “We might be in trouble here.”

The vehicle rolls to a stop, and Inseong cracks an eye open tiredly to watch the door. The engine cuts off.

“Hey, Sanghyuk, are you awake?” The pink haired man looks over, his eyes adjusted to the dark completely now and faintly able to make out the other’s silhouette. “Just, be ready. If they open that door we have a chance.”

Inseong waits with bated breath, jumping when he hears a door slam from the front of the vehicle. He’d expected his energy to be sapped by the heat, but when the reality of the situation hits him he perks up instantly. He keeps his eyes on the doors, waiting for any sign that they’re about to open. 

Though, nothing changes.

“What do you think they’re doing?” Inseong slides over closer next to Sanghyuk, whispering lowly in case anybody’s listening. “Look, when that door opens, I’ll go first. You’re kinda useless right now with your hands tied like that.”

Sanghyuk looks over to him, nodding hesitantly before pausing. He whips his head towards the door, and Inseong follows his gaze, eyes widening when he hears footsteps coming closer.

“It has to be this one, right?”

Inseong places a hand on Sanghyuk’s shoulder, leaning forward slowly at the new voice. The door rattles as somebody attempts to open it, clearly not realizing it’s locked.

“Ah, fuck… They left it closed.”

Inseong strains to hear what they murmur outside, eyes narrowed as he tries to gauge how many people are outside of the car.

Suddenly, a deafening bang blasts through the back of the vehicle, and Inseong shouts before covering his ears, unable to hear anything other than the sharp ringing that had followed the louder sound.

Light floods the back, and Inseong looks up to the exit, squinting at the sunlight to make out the shape of the three men who stand outside.

One of them looks young; a brunette with horrified eyes, staring back at Inseong as if he didn’t expect him to be inside of the vehicle. The man next to him must be a bit older, his own hair brown and long, tied back into a small bun atop his head. He seems just as confused as the other is.

The last man stands with his hand on the back door, eyes trained on the shortest man beside him as his dark hair hides his face. Inseong grabs Sanghyuk, realizing quickly that these men weren’t associated with those who had taken them.

His hearing begins to come back gradually, and he’s able to make out what the man closest to the door asks the smaller brunette through the ringing.

“Well? Which one of them’s Taeyang, kid?”

“Neither…” Inseong notices the gun in the brunette’s hand, his eyes widening at the sight of it. “Neither of them are.”

“Hey…” Inseong tries, unsure of how loud he’s talking as his ears still ring violently. The long haired brunette scoffs before reaching past the tallest of the three, beginning to shut the back doors.

“They must’ve brought him somewhere else… Come on, we’ll keep looking.”

Sanghyuk pitches forward the moment the door slams, and Inseong panics. “Hey!” He shouts, lurching forward to slam his fist into the door. It doesn’t budge underneath him. “Hey, open the fucking door!”

“I feel bad about leaving them…”

“Seokwoo, we can’t get involved. We’re already done for if they catch us. If we let them out, then we’re double fucked.”

“Juho said the same thing, but it still feels wrong…”

Inseong slams against the door again, repeating the action with his shoulder continually. It still doesn’t give, but he can’t give up. The lock was broken; all he needed to do was break the seal on the door and he’d be able to escape with Sanghyuk.

His shoulder feels like it’s going to snap. He continues to fight, slamming himself back against the door until he’s sure his bone’s about to fracture. This could very easily be the safest time for him and Sanghyuk to escape - this is their only chance. He can feel it.

He shouts in alarm when the door finally swings open underneath him, after he rams his shoulder into it once more. He topples onto the pavement outside, landing on the ground at the feet of the three men from before. He lifts his head, only to pause as soon as he can see one of their hands. 

A gun’s trained dangerously close to his forehead by the first brunette he’d seen. Inseong’s body moves quicker than his mind does; he forces his palm against the barrel, shoving the gun away the moment the other pulls the trigger. The bullet hits the ground nearby, whistling as it escapes the chamber, and Inseong quickly yanks downwards on the weapon, pulling the brunette down and into his arms before wrestling the gun away from him.

He points it at his head, restraining the younger’s hands tightly behind his back. He has no intention of shooting, but he’d been trained to handle situations, and this was the simplest way he could think of to take care of it. 

He wasn’t necessarily strong, but he knew how to fight and defend himself. The others don’t know that, though. To them, Inseong could be dangerous, and he uses that mystery to his advantage as he places his finger on the trigger.

“Who the fuck are you?” Inseong starts, adjusting his grip on the gun. “And…” He glances around quickly, narrowing his eyes at his unfamiliar surroundings. It seems like a back alley, but it stretches almost infinitely in the hazy summer day. “Where is this?”

“Don’t tell him anything!” The man in his arms shouts, squirming as if he doesn’t remember that Inseong’s holding his gun. His friends are mindful, though, and gasp at his movement.

“You have a gun to your head, idiot!” The second brunette hisses, clearly trying to get the other to tone it down. He looks afraid, looking from Inseong to the younger with terror on his face. “Don’t give him a reason to shoot.”

“I can take it.” The younger responds. His voice is defiant as he pitches forward, straightening his posture in Inseong’s grasp and making the gun all too easily click directly against his head. The darker haired man jumps forward now, wide eyes glowing with fear as he raises his hands defensively; passively.

“You  _ can’t _ take it!” He cuts in quickly, looking at Inseong. “We’re on your side. Please let him go,” he tries, voice quivering almost slightly. He cringes. “He’s a kid.”

Inseong raises an eyebrow. “I don’t care how old he is. Tell me what the fuck’s going on or I’m blowing his head across the fucking pavement!”

“We’re looking for somebody who OTO took!” The dark haired man states finally, hands still raised. “He’s in danger. And, you probably are too…”


	5. time is money

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work contains dark elements. Reader discretion is advised.

Seokwoo wakes up alone, on the floor, with his head and eyes burning. 

He doesn’t want to bring himself to sit up, finding himself sick at even the thought of moving. When he calls quietly out for Youngkyun, he’s met with an uncomfortable silence that lingers at the echo of his words. He’d assumed the younger had just moved away from him during the night, but he would have answered to his name if he was still around.

Alone, Seokwoo closes his eyes once again. The sunlight is blinding in the room; he wonders what time it must be. The summer heat already fills his home, leaving him sweaty and uncomfortable underneath the black hoodie he’d found comfortable the night before. 

He’s reminded of a room with dirty white walls, the paint chipping near the ceiling. The windows were tinted for privacy, and always closed. The A/C was broken, and the summer had never felt more hot than it had in the rehabilitation facility. 

At the thought, he winces and opens his eyes, deciding not to linger in the past for much longer than needed. The thoughts reminded him that he had failed.

_ “Master…” _

A quiet sniffle is what grabs Seokwoo’s attention as he sits up, and the man raises a hand to his forehead before rubbing it slowly. He’d forgotten about his AI, and curiously looks around the room for his phone before he remembers where he’d thrown it the night before. 

When he sees the device dejectedly laying on the floor, the display screen facing down and away from him, Seokwoo sits up on his knees and reaches forward for the phone. “Yeah?” His voice cracks, and he squeezes his eyes shut in an embarrassed manner.

Seokwoo’s startled each time he sees Juho. He’s lifelike - perfectly detailed and designed to replicate everything a human should be. 

Juho’s sitting with his legs drawn to his chest, glaring at Seokwoo from inside the glass on the screen.  _ “You’re a difficult person, Master…” _

Seokwoo scoffs, turning the device off before shoving it into his pocket. “Shut up.” He grumbles, not in any mood to play with the program as he snatches his watch from the ground and slides it on.

The dark haired man stands and grabs a change of clothes from the dresser next to his bed, making his way to the bathroom.

When he shuts the door behind himself, Seokwoo’s phone turns itself back on, a happy chime being one of the two sounds that alerts Seokwoo to the development. The other is an annoyed huff, followed quickly by a concerned hum.

_ “Master, your pulse seems off…” _

“I’m fine.”

_ “Maybe you should rest.” _

The program begins to annoy Seokwoo. “I’m  _ fine _ .” He repeats dryly, grabbing the phone from his pocket bitterly before turning it on to look at the other. “Geez, you’re annoying.”

_ “You don’t want me to watch your vitals?” _

“No.”

_ “Oh… Okay! I won’t keep an eye on your vitals then, Master!”  _ The tone in Juho’s voice is almost condescending. Seokwoo chooses to ignore it, biting back a snide remark as he forces himself to remember that the program on his phone wasn’t real. It was fake, therefore it didn’t deserve as much attention as Seokwoo chose to give it.

So, he ignores it as he pulls his clothes off, grimacing at the warm air and the sweat he feels bristling on his arms. He  _ hates _ the summer. 

Juho says something to him as he steps into the shower, and upon Seokwoo’s silence, begins to speak louder. The dark haired man groans as he turns the shower on, hoping that the sound of the water will tune out the AI that still shouts for his attention.

Juho only gets louder. Seokwoo can’t drown him out underneath the water.

_ “Masterrrrrrrrrrr!” _

“What!?”

_ “What are you doing today? Are you ignoring me?” _

Seokwoo closes his eyes, throwing his head back underneath the spray of water as he mulls over Juho’s question. “I don’t think I’m doing anything today.” He doesn’t answer the second question. The answer was obvious.

Juho falls silent, and Seokwoo mentally thanks him for the moment to himself. 

_ “Then can I ask you for a favor?” _

“A favor?” Seokwoo repeats, scoffing. Though, he smiles. There’s something innocent about the way Juho had asked, and Seokwoo forgets for a moment that he’s a written code and not flesh and bone. “Well, what do you need?”

_ “We need to go somewhere.” _

“Where?” Seokwoo tilts his head forward before running his fingers through his hair. “What do  _ you _ possibly need?”

_ “Trust. I need your trust.” _

“And?”

_ “Your help.” _

Seokwoo nods, biting his lip before he reaches down to grab a bottle of shampoo, pouring some into his hand before lathering it through his hair. “You’re not a human. What could you need my help with?”

Juho doesn’t respond. Seokwoo rinses the soap out of his hair, replaces it with conditioner, and sighs. “Juho, what are you?”

_ “Your personal AI, Master!” _

“Then what do you need  _ my _ help with?” Seokwoo rinses the soap out of his hair, letting the water wash over his face sharply in an attempt to fully wake him up.

_ “I’ll be honest,”  _ Juho’s word choice slips effortlessly into human instead of computer, and Seokwoo freezes,  _ “I’m looking at your search history right now… Oh! This is embarrassing, you’re into-“ _

“Juho!”

_ “-Is  _ this  _ why you let me keep calling you Master? I thought it was weird that you always blushed, but woah! Maybe I should send this to Youngkyun… I wonder what he’d think of you if he knew this is what you were into..!”  _ Juho interrupts himself with his own laughter. Seokwoo feels his stomach twist at the other’s statements.

The dark haired man stumbles as he grabs his towel, wrapping it around himself quickly before he lunges out of the shower to grab his phone. “You fucking dick!”

_ “Ah… You watch a lot of shitty old dramas, too, don’t you?”  _ Juho continues to scroll through the page, slowly turning to look back at Seokwoo over his shoulder.

Seokwoo seethes as he stares down at the AI, his soaked hair dripping down his back as he locks the other into a staring contest with him. Juho grins cheekily, and at the flick of his wrist, the internet tab he’d opened before closes itself down. 

Seokwoo, successfully blackmailed, gives in.

“What do you want?”

* * *

_ “Master, you need to take a left here.” _

“Where? Into the street? You want me to walk straight into a bus, Juho?” Seokwoo huffs, pulling the brim of his hat down to shade his face as he walks down the busy street. Juho’s voice rings in his ears through his earbuds.

_ “I meant right. Into that alley. Sorry,” Juho raises his hands and looks at them, “I forgot that I need to mirror directions since we’re facing each other.” _

Seokwoo grinds his teeth together, turning to look down the dark alley Juho had mentioned. “Where are you taking me?”

_ “Master, you’re asking too many questions. Why don’t you just trust me and let me take you on an adventure?” _

Seokwoo frowns, stopping to stare down the dark path before hesitantly beginning to walk through it. “Juho, I’m not blindly trusting you. Where am I going?”

A bout of silence follows Seokwoo’s question, and Juho answers tentatively when Seokwoo looks down at the screen. The program hides behind an application, peering around the edge of it as he eyes Seokwoo cautiously.

_ “The Outskirts.” _

Seokwoo turns around and exits the alley. 

“Trip’s over.” He finalizes flatly, cutting harshly through a thin crowd as he approaches a crosswalk, heading back towards his home immediately upon hearing the other's words. 

_ “Master-” _

“-There’s no way in  _ hell _ I’m going to the…” Seokwoo lowers his tone, knowing that anybody who overheard him speaking of the Outskirts would assume the worst of him. “The  _ Outskirts _ .” He hisses the word with disdain. 

The world itself wasn’t as developed as Seoul was. In fact, as Seoul had grown and adjusted, becoming the strongest and most valuable city on the globe, the country around it fell apart. Seoul was the most powerful aspect of South Korea, and therefore ran their entire society. The government had a strong vice on the city, with checkpoints set up at every entrance and exit to control who and what was allowed inside.

Those who had been caught outside when the checkpoints went up years before, who didn’t have much money, were unable to enter the city as they couldn’t afford to bypass the checkpoints. They were denied access to services they needed, that they’d been able to use for years prior. They were cut off from a society they themselves were, and had been, a part of.

The system was still relatively new, and still fought constantly by those outside. In the Outskirts, there was no law. The government didn’t care to keep them in check; there was nothing worth protecting there. In their eyes, there was nothing to profit from, and thus the people were a waste to keep safe. It would be easier if they killed each other so the riots and protests would be finished.

There was some outdated tech outside the walls of the city still. Older Android models were more often than not disposed of in Outskirts junkyards. They weren’t shiny and new enough for the city - dull, they would waste away among piles of metal and trash.

_ “Please listen to me.”  _ Juho pleads, his voice soft in Seokwoo’s ears.

“Not a fucking chance.”

_ “Trust me!” _

City people were killed upon entering the Outskirts. Those on the outside hated those from the inside, no matter who they were or what their standing on the situation was. 

Seokwoo, though he himself was alienated inside the city due to his lack of tech and his financial standing, was lucky to have just enough to get by. He would be torn apart upon stepping into the Outskirts as one of the weaker insiders.

_ “Master, please…” _

Seokwoo stops at the crosswalk, ignoring the program as he whines.

“You told me you belong to me entirely.” Seokwoo starts lowly. “So if you’re  _ mine _ , then why do you think I’m going to let  _ you _ lead  _ me _ into the Outskirts? I don’t have to listen to you. Aren’t you supposed to listen to me?”

_ “Ah… You sound so possessive, Master…”  _ Juho hums. Seokwoo narrows his eyes, glancing down at his phone to look at the other.  _ “I like it.” _

“Shut up.”

_ “Do you underestimate me?” _

The question is sudden. Seokwoo’s stuck in place as the crosswalk light turns green, the crowd crossing around him as he stands rooted to the pavement. The green light illuminates his features ever so slightly, highlighting his features with an emerald glow.

“What?”

_ “Master, what am I?” _

Seokwoo lifts his phone, watching as a sly grin begins to form on the other’s face. The light across the street turns red, and the traffic begins to flow through the intersection once again. 

“You’re… An AI.”

Juho nods, bobbing his head up and down comically. Slowly. Seokwoo realizes he’s being mocked.  _ “Wow, Master, you’re so smart,”  _ There’s a slight edge to Juho’s voice, taunting Seokwoo as he speaks,  _ “oh, wow! Fuck, if I weren’t just a program I’d beg you to take me right now on this dirty, depressing street corner! Smart people like you turn me on...”  _

Seokwoo’s face reddens, mortification lighting a fire under his skin. “Fuck you,” he breathes, gritting his teeth. His admiration for the AI he’d garnered the night before slowly begins to fade into an unamused acceptance. Though, even that begins to drain into Seokwoo seeing him as a nuisance.

_ “I wish you could,”  _ Juho snarks, his tone dropping into one of annoyance,  _ “whatever. I’ll make you respect me.” _

“ _ Make _ me respect you,” Seokwoo chuckles. “Okay. What are you gonna do, delete my internet history?”

Juho frowns. 

Seokwoo’s phone vibrates with a new notification.

**> ONLINE TRANSFER : 100,000,000 KRW to CHECKING**

“Juho?”

_ “No, no hold on, hold on.” _

**> ONLINE TRANSFER : 200,050 KRW to CHECKING**

**> ONLINE TRANSFER : 100,000,000 KRW to CHECKING**

“Is that you?”

_ “Who else would it be? I thought you were smart, Master… I don’t fuck stupid guys.” _

Seokwoo stares at the notifications, his finger frozen above the screen as he debates on clicking the message to review his banking app. 

He clicks on it, his eyes wide and horrified as he sees the countless other transactions into his account. His current balance is higher than he’d ever seen it before,  _ much higher _ , but nothing about the situation pleases him. In fact, he’s terrified, feet glued to the pavement as he stares down at the screen.

“Where did you get all of this from..?”

_ “It’s not important.”  _ Juho hums.  _ “As far as you know, it’s legal.” _

“No.” Seokwoo shakes his head. “You just stole this.”

_ “Who cares?” _

“Do you have no morals!?”

_ “Nope! I feel nothing.” _

Seokwoo doesn’t know what to say or how to react. “R-Return it, Juho.” He cringes, only imagining what bad things could come out of the transfers. He doesn’t care that he stutters, that his hands shake with fear at the sudden criminality of the AI  _ he  _ will be punished for installing.

_ “I can’t.” _

“Why!? Juho, this isn’t-“

_ “-Master, it’s fine. The chances we’ll get caught are extremely low.” _

The light turns green. Seokwoo feels ready to throw up. “You’re insane.”

_ “I’m Juho.”  _ Juho hums.  _ “And now you have money for the Outskirts.” _

“No. Get rid of it or I  _ swear  _ I’ll get rid of you, Juho. I’ll fucking delete you.”

Juho laughs. Seokwoo freezes, hearing the sound echo through his headphones loudly. It’s human; yet, it’s distorted in a way that causes an uncontrollable fear to pierce Seokwoo’s heart. 

_ “You wanna delete me?”  _ Juho hums, smiling innocently as he presses a hand against the screen, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.  _ “I’ll never allow you to do that. I’m yours, but in that same way you’re  _ mine _. We’ll submit to each other’s wills whether we like it or not.” _

Seokwoo nods slowly, looking around to make sure nobody’s watching him before throwing his phone to the ground sharply. There’s nothing else he can consider - Juho’s begun to act out, and he doesn’t want to be the first man led to death by an AI. He hears the phone crack, hears a soft whirr as it powers down, and smashes the rest of it underneath his shoe, stomping on it repeatedly until there’s no chance that it’s still salvageable.

His panic overtakes him; he stares down at the shattered glass scattered along the pavement, horrified eyes darting from piece to piece as if he expects Juho to crawl out from underneath one of the broken remnants of the device.

There’s nothing, though, and Seokwoo takes a deep breath in. He can get a new phone; an older model wouldn’t be too expensive. And, hopefully, Juho would be gone.

He tries not to think of his bank account, or of the consequences that will likely befall him because of those deposits the AI had made into it.

Cautiously, Seokwoo crouches down and grabs the empty shell of his phone, the thin cover of it feeling oddly heavy in his grasp though it’s nothing but a tiny backing piece with a circuit board and other tools Seokwoo doesn’t quite know the name of.

He starts walking after he stands back up. The light’s red above him, but no cars drive by and he swiftly crosses the road, looking down as his skin crawls with nerves. 

On his side there’s a line of stores, holograms of ads popping up on the glass windows as he walks by them. He ignores them to the best of his ability, but each flash of an ad appearing causes him to jump.

Seokwoo can’t believe he’d smashed his phone. Alongside that, though, he can’t believe he’d even harbored Juho for so long. He should have deleted the AI as soon as it had installed itself onto his device. He should’ve  _ never  _ clicked on that link.

_ “That was stupid.” _

Seokwoo freezes, his eyes widening as he looks up. He tries not to look at the glass beside him, but when he does he isn’t surprised to see Juho staring back at him, considering his voice had graced Seokwoo’s ears only moments before.

He takes a step back. Juho raises an unimpressed eyebrow. He looks too lifelike; as if he’s on the other side of the window now, staring back at Seokwoo. He’s just about the same height as the human, maybe a centimeter or two shorter as he appears on the glass.

_ “Smashed your phone… I mean, I can copy all of your old information onto whatever new model you wanna get, but how annoying! You’re gonna have to buy a new one now. I transferred over some extra funds for it already, though, don’t thank me.”  _ Juho rambles, smiling at the other as if he’d done him a favor.

Seokwoo can’t process the fact that he’d actually returned, and blanches as he stares at the program.

“What the hell are you?”

_ “Juho.” _

“And what the  _ hell  _ is that!?” Seokwoo shouts, taking another step back. There’s traffic on the road, but nobody pays him any mind. “How are you still here? How…” He raises a hand and rakes his fingers sharply through his hair. 

Juho shrugs, leaning his forehead against the display. Seokwoo can’t get over how the other looks so  _ damn  _ human.  _ “You think I was stupid enough to keep my source files on your phone?” _

“I don’t… I don’t know what you mean.”

_ “Ah, right, you’re not the smart one.”  _ Juho sighs.  _ “I should have given myself up to Youngkyun instead of you… Whatever,”  _ he shakes his head,  _ “I’m everywhere. You can’t delete or destroy me because you’ll never be able to find my source. I will always be with you, whether you like it or not. Think of me like a ghost you can never exorcise.”  _

At the fear that must cross Seokwoo’s face, Juho beams.  _ “You look scared.” _ He’s almost proud of the fact.  _ “Finally starting to see the big picture? You have  _ me _ on your side. I can give you  _ anything _ you could ever want. Money, power, fame… All yours, if you’d like it.” _ Seokwoo shakes his head swiftly. Juho continues.  _ “In turn, you’re mine. You’re my little puppet since I can only affect things from this side of the glass, understand?” _

Seokwoo immediately disagrees, barking out an aggressive  _ no _ , which earns him a sharp sigh from the AI.

_ “You really don’t get it… Master, you don’t have a say in this.”  _ Juho chuckles, leaning back and off of the glass.  _ “You’re gonna go pick up a new phone.” _

“I’m not. You’re not real, I don’t-”

_ “-Then I’ll report all of the new transactions with your bank account to the police.” _

* * *

Juho may not be real, but the consequences of his threat were. They were  _ very _ real.

_ “Ah… This is so much better, Master,”  _ Juho stretches, groaning softly as he lays across the bottom of Seokwoo’s new phone’s display screen.  _ “I feel better being closer to you.” _

Seokwoo frowns. Juho continues.  _ “Alright, now that  _ that’s  _ taken care of.”  _ Juho grins.  _ “There’s a checkpoint nearby where you can cross into the Outskirts.” _

He knows he’s trapped. Seokwoo nods dully, sullenly leaving the shop he’d been coaxed to enter by the AI that had followed him from window to window, appearing constantly where usually ads would to pressure Seokwoo into buying another phone.

He had bought a small black bag from the store alongside the phone, and he keeps the device’s box, charger, and the backing to his older phone securely inside of it.

Seokwoo doesn’t speak. He listens to Juho’s navigational directions, crossing down streets and through alleys until he sees a high fence between the buildings around him. It cuts off alleyways, forcing Seokwoo to walk in a straight line alongside it as he looks for the checkpoint. 

_ “So sad…”  _ Juho mumbles absentmindedly, looking up at Seokwoo. _ “That the world had to come to this…” _

“Money causes a lot of problems.” Seokwoo mumbles. Juho laughs.

_ “Not for you, though. I’ll make sure of it.” _

“Okay.”

Seokwoo feels pathetic - he’s being blackmailed by a program that lays on his phone display, eyes closed and arms folded underneath it’s head as if it’s real and genuinely has the need to rest.

Can Juho really just be an AI? It can’t be that… He’s smart, but he’s not acting as a computer would. Seokwoo mulls over the thought, realizing that Juho was making human errors in his decision making.

When he’d taken the money, he said they had a  _ low _ chance of being caught. A computer wouldn’t leave that risk open, it wouldn’t have even been able to do what Juho had done.

“Juho?”

_ “Yes, Master?” _

“What are you exactly?”

He can’t be a normal AI. There’s no way - somebody has to be behind the program, controlling and manipulating it in some way. It had to be the only explanation.

Before Juho can respond, Seokwoo hears somebody call out to him.

There’s a soldier leaning against a wall, a mask covering most of their face.

“What are you doing out here? Civilians should stay in the city.”

“I’m trying to leave,” Seokwoo says back, approaching them slowly. Juho tells him what to say, and he repeats it to the soldier nervously. “I have family in the Outskirts I haven’t seen in a long time, I’m just worried and want to check on them.”

The soldier eyes Seokwoo up and down before shrugging, stepping off of the building. Their boots echo loudly off of the ground as they begin to walk. When they don’t say anything to Seokwoo, the man takes initiative to follow after them.

_ “You look like a little kid following their parent around.” _

“Shut up,” Seokwoo hisses, earning a slight glare from the soldier as they turn to look over their shoulder at him. “Oh! Oh, not you, I’m so sorry, I had somebody on the phone…”

The soldier becomes uninterested, turning away. Seokwoo exhales softly with relief, glaring down at his phone before sliding it into his pocket. He looks around, finding the tall fence that blocks his path on one side unsettling. It’s much too high to climb. Yet, Seokwoo doesn’t doubt that people had tried to. There’s stains on the pavement washed away by time that Seokwoo can’t see any source for. It only leaves room for his imagination to wander. 

_ “Master,”  _ Juho calls suddenly,  _ “please check your phone.” _

Seokwoo does so, pulling the device from his pocket before seeing a text document opened on the screen.

_ “Answer me on here. Do you still have your watch on?” _

Seokwoo glances at his wrist, nodding when he confirms he still has it. Juho bites his lip.

_ “They’re jamming the signal, then. I can’t see any of your vitals and I can’t access the main city’s servers anymore. I thought that maybe we just didn’t have reception out here, but if I can’t access your watch...” _

Seokwoo types a question into the document, cocking his head to the side curiously. 

**Is that bad?**

_ “Yeah. I don’t know what they’re doing out here, and that’s worrying to me. I should be able to bypass most security systems, but the only one I can see some signals for is elite. I can’t get through.” _

**It IS a government checkpoint…**

Seokwoo continues typing his responses, yawning quietly. The point Juho’s pressing doesn’t concern him much. 

_ “Master, this doesn’t concern you?” _

**I mean, sure it does but that’s not why we’re here, right?**

_ “I guess not…” _

The soldier pauses in front of a small black building. The fence stretches over it and flush against it, leaving only one possible entrance in the front.

“You’ll go inside and check-in.” The soldier instructs. “If you aren’t back by 1600, you won’t be allowed back inside the city. You’ll need to wait until 900 tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Seokwoo thanks them, bowing slightly before walking by the soldier. They watch him leave, hidden beneath their uniform and their mask. 

_ “We’ll be back in time,”  _ Juho assures, though there’s an edge to his voice.  _ “In and out.” _

Seokwoo nods, sliding his phone back into his pocket. He pushes open the door to the checkpoint building, takes a deep breath, and steps inside.

He isn’t sure what he expects to see in the building. There’s an older woman in a uniform sitting on top of a crate, many of which are stacked against the walls of the small, one-roomed building. She casts Seokwoo an odd glance when he steps inside, and he immediately makes note of the gun she takes her time with cleaning off, running a dirtied rag over the black barrel of the weapon.

“Leaving?” She questions. Her voice is raspy. “There’s a scanner over there on the wall. Look into it and leave your name on the clipboard beside it. Come back before four.”

Seokwoo thanks her softly, and approaches the back wall she’d motioned to. There’s a small screen on the wall and a lens beside it, and Seokwoo begins to lean down so the scanner can reach his eye.

The screen flashes on when the lens begins to focus on Seokwoo, and said man turns to look at the information that appears.

**KIM SEOKWOO**

**8/07/1996**

**CITIZEN NO. XXXX-XX-2745**

“You’ll need to state the last four digits of your citizen number when you come back, or you won’t be allowed to enter Seoul.”

Seokwoo jumps at the sudden voice behind him, whipping around to see the woman sliding her gun over her shoulder, strapping it idly to her body as she speaks. 

“What are you leaving here to do, Kim?”

“Visit family,” Seokwoo mumbles, eyes widening before he adds a quiet “ma’am,” to the end of his sentence. She seems pleased by the addition to his words, and she waves him off quickly. 

“Alright, well, be safe,” she nods once, standing straight as she watches the other from across the room, “you seem like a good kid. It’d be a shame if you got lost on the outside.”

“Thank you,” Seokwoo whispers, bowing his head respectfully before reaching back for the door behind him.

Seokwoo steps outside and enters the Outskirts. 

He’s unsettled, being on the other side of the fence for the first time in his life. The city looks darker on this side, where deserted buildings and complexes sit with broken windows and bashed in doors.

Nobody’s around. Seokwoo takes a deep breath in and begins walking, lowering his head in hopes that it’ll make him appear less suspicious.

“Where am I going, Juho?”

_ “Closer to the edge of the city. Keep heading straight down this block, I’ll tell you when you’re almost there, Master.” _

Seokwoo nods, following the other’s instruction carefully. The pavement is destroyed, cracked and broken off of the road in chunks. Weeds and vines grow up through the breaks, weaving around the edges of buildings thickly. Seokwoo stares at the plants with narrowed eyes, trying to remember the last time he’d ever seen actual wildlife that hadn’t been modified or structured in any way.

“Hey, remember the citizen number for me, okay? I’m horrible with memorization.”

_ “Of course - two seven four five. I’ll remember it for you.” _

“Thank you.”

He isn’t far from the loud, inner city, but it’s dead silent in the Outskirts. He shivers even though the summer blazes down around him, and quickens his pace in hopes that it’ll let him leave sooner.

_ “Turn left down this next street, there’s somebody hiding in an alley ahead. One of their devices just tried to connect to your phone.” _

Seokwoo quickly listens to the other’s words, thanking the AI quietly as he leaves the main street. “What does that mean-”

“-Hey!”

Seokwoo doesn’t turn around at the voice behind him. “Juho, where should I go?” He tries to keep his voice level, but he panics, quickening his steps.

_ “I’m trying to find a map, but there’s no main server here for me to connect to. Can you ask somebody how to get to apartment sector 4D if you see anybody who looks passive enough to approach?” _

“Seoul has apartment sectors we could’ve gone to!” He whispers, seething. 

“Hey, get the fuck over here!”

Seokwoo starts running, forgetting about his question to instead focus on getting away. “I’m gonna need you to figure something out, Juho!”

_ “Okay, okay! Give me a minute!” _

Seokwoo can hear whoever’s behind him closing in, and he darts into an old store through a broken window in hopes of losing them. The place had been ransacked; nothing of importance remains on the shelves, which are for the most part barren. There’s a staircase nearby, but Seokwoo knows better than to trap himself on a second story. He looks around for somewhere to hide - he doesn’t want to risk getting caught in the open.

He makes his way quickly around the first floor, crouching down behind the old register counter before grabbing a piece of broken glass off of the floor. 

_ “What’s going on?”  _

“Somebody’s following us.”

_ Us. _ Seokwoo’s disgusted with himself for referring to him and Juho as ‘us’. It was just him, him and the program on his phone that was more than likely going to get him either killed now or imprisoned later. 

_ “Hold on a little longer, Master,”  _ Juho mumbles,  _ “I can’t connect to anything now, but-” _

Something smashes into the counter. Seokwoo gasps, covering his mouth quickly to smother the sound of his shock.

“Where are ya!?” 

Seokwoo sinks down lower towards the floor, clutching the glass tightly in his hand as he prepares himself for the other to approach. It slices deeply into his palm, and he grits his teeth at the feeling of hot blood dripping down and over his skin. It takes everything within him not to cry out in pain and drop the makeshift weapon as every nerve in his hand gets shot at once.

Their footsteps draw farther away, however, and relief floods Seokwoo’s system when he hears them begin to ascend the staircase. He begins to rise, peeking around slowly to see if he can make out their shape on the stairs still.

When he can hear them on the floor above, Seokwoo stands back up and runs, not slowing down in the slightest once he’s outside. He grips his injured hand tightly with his other one, biting back each pained noise he can until he’s a safe distance away from the building. He still clutches the glass tightly.

He ducks into an alley and finally cries out softly, falling against a wall before scrambling for his shirt. He grabs the bottom of the cloth, slicing a strip off with the glass before finally discarding it. 

_ “Master, what’s going on?” _

“Fuck off.” Seokwoo whispers, beginning to try and wrap the cloth around his still bleeding palm. He finds it increasingly more difficult to tie and tighten the strip around his hand, eventually raising his hands and using his teeth to pull tightly on the end of the messy knot he’d managed to tie. “Fuck…” He whispers, cradling his hand to his chest before lowering his head to his knees. “Ah, fuck…”

Juho remains silent as Seokwoo keeps his head tucked to his knees. He doesn’t speak until he’s spoken to, until Seokwoo’s finally begun to go numb in the hand from the blood loss and he’s aching to leave.

“Get me directions to the apartment sector or I’m leaving.”

_ “Ah… Yes, of course.” _

* * *

_ “It’s just up ahead now.”  _

Seokwoo nods, feeling exhausted though he’d only been walking for about an hour. Juho had been able to find a map soon after Seokwoo had stumbled into the alley, and he’d followed the other’s directions as quickly as he could.

He wants to leave. The injury in his hand isn’t deep enough for him to need to go to the hospital, thankfully, but it hurts more than anything he’d ever felt before. 

Each creak of a desolate building makes him flinch. He imagines being surrounded by those who lived here, imagines being torn to pieces. He isn’t cut out to be here, he wouldn’t survive if somebody caught him in the open.

_ “Master, your heart rate just increased a lot… Feeling okay?” _

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

_ “I’m worried about you.” _

“Just get me to the fucking place,” Seokwoo scoffs, “and get me the hell out of here.”

_ “Understood, Master. In that case, the building is on your direct right.” _

Seokwoo jumps, pausing before he whips to the side. “Were you gonna just let me walk past it!?”

Juho snickers as Seokwoo crosses into the building, beginning to look around.

“Where should I be heading?”

_ “Well, there’s a signal being sent out from an upper floor… We came to figure out what’s causing it, so let’s look for anything that looks like it could be of importance.” _

“So… We came out here because you were curious about a stray signal?”

_ “In my defense, I could spot it from your home. Whatever it is was meant to be found, and I have a weird feeling about it.” _

“You’re a computer. You  _ don’t _ feel.” Seokwoo grumbles. “And this place is huge… It could take us all day to find it, even if we only search the top few floors.”

The building around Seokwoo stretches upwards what seems to be infinitely. He hadn’t noticed how large it was from the outside, but as he cranes his neck to see upwards through the empty column that stretches up towards the broken ceiling, he’s stunned.

Sunlight filters into the building through the broken roof, which cracks slightly underneath Seokwoo’s shoes as he wanders around the lobby of the deserted apartment complex.

Again, he’s shocked when he sees wildlife growing up through the cracked floor, crouching down to brush his fingertips against the leaves of a weed softly. The building creaks eerily around him.

_ “It’s okay, when we get closer to the signal our connection to it will get stronger. I’ll be able to get us to it.” _

“If this turns out to be nothing, I’m deleting you.”

Juho laughs, and Seokwoo shivers at the sound of it.

_ “Okay, Master,”  _ Juho hums,  _ “if it’s nothing important, you can delete me.” _

Seokwoo nods, standing up before peering up once more at the bright sun shining into the building. He wonders how long it’ll take for the rest of the building to collapse as the roof had - it would weather away rather quickly without the ceiling, without anything to defend the old structure from the rain or snow later in the year.

_ “How many floors do you think there are?” _

“At least…” Seokwoo squints, running his gaze over the balconies that face out over the empty space in the center. The building must have been lovely when it was still being occupied, but the hands of time had crumbled it down. “Fifty..? Maybe sixty?”

_ “Let’s start at forty, then. See a stairwell anywhere?” _

Seokwoo looks around before nodding, a door that had fallen off of its hinges revealing a dark and desolate staircase. “Yeah.”

The search is unsuccessful on the fortieth, forty first, and forty second floors. Seokwoo can only access a few of the unlocked apartments, and they’d been ransacked just as the shop from before had been.

“You sure it’s around here?”

_ “The signal’s very strong… You’re gonna need to break down some doors.” _

“You’re overestimating my physical abilities.” Seokwoo blanches, looking around the floor. “Can you point me in any specific direction that you think the source might be in?”

_ “No.” _

“Okay,” Seokwoo nods, drawing his lips together tightly. He leaves the room he currently stands in, looking around the floor. “But you’re sure that this floor might have it?”

_ “Well, how about you go up a few more floors and I’ll watch to see if it gets weaker? That way we can narrow down our search to a couple levels.” _

Seokwoo agrees before walking back towards the stairwell. His suspicion that Juho isn’t fully a computer is only becoming stronger and stronger; had he really only led him out here because of a hunch? Seokwoo’s life is on the line because Juho saw a stray signal. A program shouldn’t have even  _ wanted  _ to investigate it - it should have sat idly by and waited for Seokwoo to need something, as AIs were supposed to do.

“I’ll ask you one final time, Juho.” Seokwoo hums, stepping into the stairwell before beginning to ascend to the next floor. His legs are aflame and tired, but he knew he couldn’t take a break. He only had a few hours left before the checkpoint would close, and though the day had been much easier to get through thus far than he’d expected, he’s sure the night would be a different story. “What are you?”

_ “I’m Juho.” _

“Yeah, I know. But what is  _ that?” _ Seokwoo’s voice echoes around the stairwell loudly, and he prays that nobody’s around to hear him. 

_ “Your personal AI, Master. Please don’t question me any further.” _

“You’re not allowed to tell me not to do that.”

_ “Understood, Master, but I am allowed to not answer your questions. You won’t be getting any more information out of me in that regard.” _

“I don’t want to help you if you’re unwilling to cooperate with me,” Seokwoo murmurs, raising his hand to brush back his hair. He’s sweating, the building getting hotter the higher the sun rises in the sky. He wishes he’d brought water with him. 

Juho remains silent, and Seokwoo sighs as he pushes open the door to the next floor. He knows he doesn’t have much time to waste, and hopes when he sits down next to the stairwell door on the forty third level that Juho will press him to go forward.

_ “Why are you stopping?” _

“I’m tired,” Seokwoo responds bluntly, smirking at the other’s sudden willingness to speak to him, “this is fucking exhausting, my legs hurt. Give me a minute.”

_ “Master, we don’t have a lot of time…” _

“Well, how’s the signal from here?”

_ “Weaker than it was on the last level.” _

“Perfect,” Seokwoo lays back, folding his arms behind his head. “So then what we’re looking for is probably below us.” The fact makes him feel slightly better - there’s about fifty rooms on each floor, twelve on each side of the empty column in the center of the building. He’d work his way around from the staircase to find whatever Juho wanted, and then he’d leave. It had to be on the forty second floor.

He has time, he decides before closing his eyes. If they’d narrowed down the source so easily, and if checking the apartments went well, then he’d make it back to the checkpoint well before four. His knees ache, and he winces at the throbbing pain that still comes from his hand. 

Juho falls directly into the trap Seokwoo had laid out for him.  _ “It’s a bad idea for you to waste time here.” _

“Okay, then tell me what you are and I’ll get going.”

Juho falls silent. Seokwoo chuckles. “Ah, right, you don’t want to.” He rolls onto his side, pulling his phone out of his pocket to set beside him. “Then maybe I’ll even take a nap,” he bluffs, knowing that he definitely doesn’t have that much time to waste resting. “Since we’re only leaving when you wanna talk.”

_ “You’re lying.” _

Seokwoo shakes his head, sighing as he closes his eyes. “I’m not, today’s been really tiring…”

_ “Master, we need to hurry.” _

“Why?”

_ “Because-!”  _ Juho cuts himself off, groaning.  _ “Because I really don’t like you wasting time in a dangerous place like this. There could be civilians all around us right now, and you’re defenseless.” _

Seokwoo hadn’t thought about that before Juho had mentioned it now, and he sits up begrudgingly. “Still…” He tries, “at least tell me why we’re here. I know you’re smart enough not to force me out here because of a hunch.”

_ “Then I’ll tell you, but only after you’re back home.” _

Seokwoo figures that’s as good as he’ll be able to manage, and nods as he stands back up. “Alright, deal. But you’re not gonna back out on me, right?”

_ “Now why would I do that, Master?” _

Seokwoo hates everything about this.

Each time he breaks down a door, the sound makes him feel lightheaded. He’s sure somebody’s going to hear him, going to trap him inside the room he’d just gained access to only to cut his life short. 

Regardless, he’s approaching the last few rooms on the floor, and his search has turned up unsuccessful still.

_ “It has to be close,” _ Juho urges, and Seokwoo nods as he presses his shoulder against the next door. He takes a deep breath, nervously looking around.  _ “This kinda feels familiar in a way, don’t you think so?” _

“I don’t know what that means,” Seokwoo breathes out, taking a step back before slamming his shoulder into the door. It creaks, but doesn’t give, and he repeats the motion once again. “Familiar how?” He gasps, raising a hand to clutch his arm as it begins to burn.

This door’s harder to break down than all of the others were. He narrows his eyes at it, noticing through the tiny slit he’d managed to pry it open that there’s various different locks on the inside that are still intact. 

“I think this might be our room,” Seokwoo draws his lips together tightly, tiredly approaching the door once again. “But I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to get it open.”

He rams his aching shoulder into the door once more before he hears a soft, mechanical  _ pop _ on the other side of the wood, and he notices that the slit had grown in size. He’s able to snake his hand around the wood and feel for the other locks, and begins to pry at them as he leans further on the door. 

_ “I think you’ve got it.”  _ Juho’s voice rings out softly through Seokwoo’s earbuds, and he nods. 

“Yeah, I think so too.” Seokwoo strains as he tears one of the old locks from the door, wincing as the metal slices his finger slightly. “Shit…” 

Once more, he barrels into the door with his shoulder, and it’s thrown open underneath him with a loud crack. Seokwoo yelps, stumbling into the room and nearly falling over the busted door. He catches himself on the doorframe, gasping as he regains his balance.

The room’s a mess. Seokwoo takes note of the dark stains on the walls, and tries not to think too much about what could have caused them as he begins to peer around the space. It carries the same layout that all of the rooms had; a bedroom and a small bathroom connected to it, a kitchen next to the front door, and a tiny living space connecting it all. A window lets hot sunlight pour into the room, and it’s cracked open slightly for a cold breeze to drift through. Seokwoo pauses beside it, catching his breath as he takes a moment to think.

“It doesn’t look like there’s anything here.”

_ “The signal’s too strong for it  _ not _ to be here.”  _ Juho deadpans.  _ “It could be anything, you need to find it.” _

Seokwoo nods standing still in front of the window for another moment as he looks around. There’s a bowl on the kitchen table still, and for the first time Seokwoo sees an undisturbed room around him. He feels like he’s intruding on something, though the space must have been unused for quite a long time. There’s a thick layer of dust on everything that the draft from the window can’t wash over. 

“Umm…” Seokwoo begins walking around, trying to find anything that he can that may explain the signal. “Should I just shove anything of interest into my bag?”

_ “Yeah, if you want to. Who’s gonna stop you?”  _ Juho responds flatly.  _ “Take whatever you think you should.” _

Seokwoo nods, feeling oddly guilty about taking anything from the space. He needs to continually remind himself that the apartment is empty, and that nobody would be coming back to it. 

Though, he finds it odd that there’s no sign of anybody around yet the door had been locked so securely. There must be another exit around the apartment somewhere. Maybe the window?

He peers out of the glass and his eyes widen. The drop between himself and the ground makes him immediately take a step away. Definitely not an exit point.

Seokwoo walks into the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers softly. Each time he sees something completely normal, like silverware or clean dishes, a chill runs over his spine. It’s too out of place, especially in a place like the Outskirts. When everything he’d seen so far had been destroyed, this vague slice of normalcy made him feel increasingly more unsettled. 

There’s nothing that catches Seokwoo’s eye in the kitchen, and so he leaves and passes the living room to enter the bedroom. 

An old laptop lays on the bed, and Seokwoo picks it up curiously before opening the old device. He doesn’t recognize the model, but it’s bulky and makes him think that it’s much older than he expects it to be. He tries to turn it on, not expecting much. 

It must be dead - couldn’t possibly be the source of any signal. 

“What do you think happened to whoever lived here?” Seokwoo murmurs. 

_ “Dunno. They probably died.” _

“Ah…” Seokwoo frowns, gently closing the device before sliding his bag off of his shoulder. “Probably,” he murmurs dully. The laptop fit nicely into the cloth. “It’s weird to think about, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t trust the AI, but he finds himself calming down ever so slightly when he talks to him. 

_ “I mean, sure. They abandoned their life here,”  _ Juho states back. Seokwoo nods.

“Yeah… I’m gonna take their old computer, see if maybe I can find a power cable for it or something…”

_ “If you wanna.”  _ Juho states.  _ “Hey, I think it might be coming from this room.” _

“Really?” Seokwoo looks around, cocking his head to the side slightly. “I don’t really see anything, though…” 

_ “It’s only a tiny bit stronger, but… We have to be right on top of it,”  _ Juho affirms.  _ “It’s here.” _

Seokwoo nods, looking around once more before shrugging. “I’ll keep looking, then,” he says. 

There’s nothing but clothes in the cabinet drawers; mostly black, things that make him think that a guy had lived here in the past. He can’t tell what age - there’s a lot of sweaters, some jeans. No photographs or anything too personal, though. 

Seokwoo feels bad, but he pulls the pillows and sheets back off of the bed, revealing nothing. It’s only when he’s about to enter the bathroom that he realizes he’d never checked underneath the bed.

A black suitcase is the only thing underneath it, but Juho immediately starts raging about the signal being stronger now, and Seokwoo figures that something inside the case has to be causing it. 

“It’s locked.” Seokwoo mumbles, tossing the suitcase down onto the bed before attempting to open it. A thick padlock keeps it closed tightly, though. “I won’t be able to open it here.”

_ “Hope it’s not a bomb.”  _ Juho taunts, to which Seokwoo’s eyes widen.  _ “I’m kidding. I’m sure it’s not.” _

* * *

Seokwoo’s more than thankful when he’s able to make it back to the checkpoint without being stopped. It’s not just luck - it’s a miracle that he’d made it out alive, and with only minutes to spare before the point would be closed down for the night.

He’s exhausted, his body aching and sore from the relentless walking that Juho had forced him into. The suitcase weighs him down as well; whatever’s hidden inside of it had been much heavier than he’d expected when he first grabbed it at the apartment.

“Citizen number?” He whispers as he approaches the checkpoint, straightening his posture as best as he can.

_ “2745, Master.”  _ Juho reiterates, and Seokwoo nods as he relays the number back to himself.

“2745.” He repeats, nodding as he stops in front of the small building that lies as his only entrance back into Seoul.

He knocks on the door, groaning softly. “It’s way too hot…”

_ “You’ll be home soon.” _

The door swings open, and another soldier hidden by their scrubs and a mask points their gun in Seokwoo’s direction.

“Citizen number?”

“2745.” Seokwoo stutters, eyeing the gun cautiously. “My name’s Kim Seokwoo, I-”

“Yeah, your name’s on the sheet.” The soldier grumbles, almost as if they’re displeased by the fact. “You look pretty beat up.” 

“Uh… Yeah,” Seokwoo laughs nervously, stepping inside quickly when the gun’s dropped from his eye-level. “But it wasn’t as bad as I…” Seokwoo stalls, feeling the other’s hot gaze boring into his skin. “I mean… It was bad,” he winces, knowing he’d likely be reprimanded for saying anything but the worst about the other half of the city. “It was pretty bad.”

The soldier nods, locking the door behind the other as he steps through. “Well, we’re glad to have you back in one piece.”

Seokwoo smiles, nervously adjusting his grip on the suitcase. “Yeah, I’m glad to be back…”

“What’s in the case?”

_ “Files for work.” _

“Ah... “ Seokwoo furrows his eyebrows as he eyes the case, smiling sheepishly at the soldier. “Files for work.”

“Huh.” They respond, gently poking the case with the butt of their gun. “I didn’t take you as the type to be in that profession… You look a little scrawny for it.”

Confused, Seokwoo only forces a laugh, not wanting to seem suspicious. “Y-yeah…”

“You’re free to go,” they hum, “next time try to make it back sooner. I was halfway out the door to finish my shift when you knocked.”

Seokwoo nods, turning and leaving as quickly as he can before grabbing his phone from his pocket. “What the fuck?”

_ “I’ll explain later.”  _ Juho mumbles.  _ “But your phone’s gonna die… Hurry home and charge it, okay? Since you’re safe now I’m gonna turn it off to conserve power.” _

Seokwoo nods hesitantly, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “You did well.”

_ “As did you, Master.” _

When Seokwoo’s safe inside his home, with his phone charging beside him on his bed, he takes his time trying to pry the suitcase open.

The padlock on it is old, but it’s still in good condition. He doesn’t know how he’ll manage to take it off. 

His phone chimes as it powers back on, but instead of hearing Juho, he hears a call coming through.

He answers it, putting the phone on speaker before returning his attention to the padlock in front of him. 

“Hey, Youngkyun,” Seokwoo murmurs, biting his lip when the padlock clicks back against the suitcase. He can’t get it to unlock, and wonders if he should just give up. “Do you know how to pick locks still?”

_ “Hmm? I mean, I’m rusty at it, but I used to be pretty good… Why, what’s up?” _ Youngkyun’s end of the call is loud, as if he’s standing in the middle of a thick crowd.  _ “Well, actually, I wanna put that on hold for a sec. You should come out tonight!” _

“Fuck no.” Seokwoo laughs. He can’t even imagine forcing himself out of bed at this point - he’s sure that his legs won’t even allow him to. They’re screaming for rest, and he’s completely content with sleeping through the rest of the day. “I’ve had a horrible day, that’s not an option.”

_ “Aw, come on! OTO has one last showcase tonight around seven, I would really appreciate it if you came out with me to watch it.” _

“I’m not into all that tech shit, ‘Kyun. And I’m  _ really _ tired…” 

_ “Please? Just this once, and I’ll never bother you about it again!” _

Seokwoo frowns, laying back. “What time is it now?” At the begging tone Youngkyun chooses to use, Seokwoo can’t find himself willing to say no. 

_ “It’s five!”  _ Youngkyun cheers happily.  _ “The showcase is in two hours, so you have plenty of time to rest if you wanna come!” _

Begrudgingly, Seokwoo forgets the suitcase and props his legs up on it, sighing. “Then let me sleep for an hour and I’ll meet you there… Maybe…” He grumbles. Youngkyun agrees and thanks him before hanging up, and Juho’s voice soon echoes throughout the room.

_ “Shouldn’t you clean up your wounds and rest? I think going out is a bad idea…” _

“Yeah, it is.” Seokwoo closes his eyes. “But I don’t want to turn him down when he sounds all excited like that…”

_ “You’re far too nice for your own good, Master. How do your legs feel?” _

“It feels like they aren’t there.” Seokwoo laughs, laying his arms over his head. “But it’s okay…”

_ “Master, you should rest.” _

“Sucks.” Seokwoo murmurs. “Quiet down for a bit, I want to sleep.”

* * *

Seokwoo regrets telling Juho that he didn’t want to rest. 

His legs don’t hurt so much anymore, but he’s exhausted. By the time he reaches the meeting place Youngkyun had designated, he wants nothing more than to crawl into bed and forget that this day had ever happened. 

Youngkyun cheerily walks beside him, though, and seeing his smile makes Seokwoo feel slightly better about his decision. 

“So, how’d you hurt your hand?” Youngkyun looks at the injury, frowning. 

“Ah… I cut it while I was cooking, it’s alright.” Seokwoo lies, hiding the bandaged palm in his hoodie pocket. He’d cleaned the injury to the best of his ability while he was home, and had taken the time he had to shower once again and rest a bit before coming. 

“But you hate cooking…” Youngkyun immediately doubts the other’s statement, frowning. “Whatever.”

“It’s because I’m clumsy,” Seokwoo laughs, feeling guilty the more he lies to the other. 

Though, he doesn’t think he’s ready to explain what had happened that day, not yet. He doesn’t know what’s in the suitcase, and until he did, he would keep quiet on the situation of him entering the Outskirts. 

“Whatever,” Youngkyun hums again, a grin breaking out on his face easily. Seokwoo can hear the crowd ahead, and groans softly. “Hey, we can find a bench near the back so we don’t have to worry about all the people, okay? I know you don’t like them…”

“Thank you,” Seokwoo murmurs. Youngkyun nudges his shoulder and hands him a small vial. “Seriously?”

“What? I took some before you showed up,” Youngkyun laughs, the Shock falling softly into Seokwoo’s grip. “Drink up~.” He giggles, leaning against the older’s arm as they walk. “You look like you need it.”

Seokwoo debates on taking the drug for only a moment before he pulls the cap off of the small tube, bringing it to his lips before he takes it like a shot of alcohol. He chokes on it, the hot taste filling his mouth and throat, burning them as he swallows. “Shit,” he gags, shaking his head quickly. 

“Strong, right?” Youngkyun takes the empty vial back, shoving it into his pocket. “It’ll hit pretty quick.”

Seokwoo nods, sighing softly. The Shock would keep him awake, at least, and he smiles as he wraps his arm around Youngkyun’s shoulders. The day had started out horribly for him, but he’d make sure it ended nicely. 

Above the two, the sky hangs orange and pink, the summer sun setting the skyscrapers of Seoul peacefully. The clouds are puffy and white, but don’t congest the sky heavily, swayed peacefully by the wind. 

When the two reach the large plaza that had been set up for the showcases, Youngkyun drags Seokwoo to an unoccupied bench, happily sitting beside the older. “I’m really happy you came out with me tonight.”

Seokwoo smiles, readjusting his arm around the younger’s shoulders before pulling him closer. He can feel the Shock in the back of his head now, his thoughts becoming muddled and spaced out as he watches a group of people set up the stage in the center of the plaza. 

Youngkyun pulls away for a moment, calling out to somebody in the crowd. Seokwoo closes his eyes, wistfully cocking his head backwards so he can face the sky. He sighs, feeling the wind wash over him gently, taking his stress and his worry with it when it passes over him.

And, when he opens his eyes and lifts his head, he sees Kang Chanhee standing in front of him.

Seokwoo doesn’t know how much time has passed, but behind Chanhee the stage has already been taken by the main speaker of the night. He must not have realized, too lost in his own head to care enough about it. 

“He should be out by now.”

“What do you mean?” Youngkyun sits forward, glancing at Seokwoo. “Sorry, he’s high.”

Chanhee shakes his head, a worried gaze piercing his expression as he turns back around to eye the stage. “That guy…” He leans forward, whispering so only the two on the bench can hear, “that guy’s supposed to be dead. Taeyang’s job was to kill him before the showcase.”

“So… Taeyang failed,” Youngkyun starts. Seokwoo doesn’t know who Taeyang is, but immediately comes to his senses at the severity of the situation. In this instant, Chanhee doesn’t look like the terrifying, fearless kingpin Seokwoo knows he is. He looks scared, fragile as he stands hugging his arms to his chest. 

“Taeyang never fails.” Chanhee whispers, shaking his head. “Something happened. I know it.”

Youngkyun brings his hands up to his face, rubbing his temple slowly. “They caught him?”

“They would’ve called off the entire showcase if the authorities got involved, wouldn’t they?” Chanhee’s eyes are wide as he speaks, his voice trembling softly. “So he wasn’t arrested.”

Seokwoo tries to piece together what the two are talking about, but Juho must have been listening as he suddenly enters the conversation. 

_ “Seokwoo, you need to help him.” _

“What? This doesn’t concern me,” Seokwoo whips his head down, tearing his phone out of his pocket. Chanhee stares at him as if he’d sprouted another head, and Youngkyun looks mortified before ripping the phone away from Seokwoo. 

“Juho, what are you saying?”

“Who the hell is Juho?”

Youngkyun raises a finger to silence Chanhee, and he yanks on Seokwoo’s earbuds to place one of them in his own ear. 

“Okay,” the brunette nods, talking softly with Seokwoo’s AI while leaving Chanhee and Seokwoo left staring at each other.

“Juho’s my AI.” Seokwoo mutters simply. Chanhee’s eyes widen, and Seokwoo quickly defends himself, “he’s very illegal.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Chanhee hisses. “It was listening the whole time?”

“Yeah, he does that…”

“He!?”

Youngkyun drops the phone back into Seokwoo’s lap before standing, reaching out to grab Chanhee’s arm. “He said that we should look for an OTO vehicle parked nearby.”

Furrowing his eyebrows together in a confused manner, Chanhee stares back at Youngkyun. “Why the hell would we do that?”

“If the authorities weren’t contacted, then they’re taking Taeyang themselves.” Youngkyun shrugs. “I don’t know, but I think we should go with it. It’s better than sitting here doing nothing, right?” Hesitantly, Chanhee nods, and Seokwoo stands.

“I’m very lost,” Seokwoo starts, earning an unamused glare from Youngkyun.

“I’ll fill you in later, but come on, we’re wasting time.”

Seokwoo follows after Chanhee and Youngkyun, and Juho begins speaking to him almost too quickly for him to understand. His brain’s soaked in fog, confusing him even further as Juho attempts to explain what he’d missed while he was unfocused.

_ “Somebody Chanhee knows was supposed to kill the guy who’s on the stage, but must have failed somewhere. The police aren’t here, and like Chanhee said earlier, if the authorities had been contacted then this show should have been called off.”  _ Seokwoo nods, trying to listen to the other as he focuses intently on following after Youngkyun. 

_ “I think OTO took him; and, if they did, you need to find an OTO vehicle or something that might be containing him.” _

“How are you making this assumption?” Seokwoo mumbles, biting his lip. “This doesn’t make much sense…”

_ “I just know it. I have a feeling that they’re gonna do something bad to him - if they didn’t call the police, then what else could they be planning other than something else horrible?” _

“You just  _ know _ ?” Seokwoo argues. “We’re following one of your blind leads again!?” 

_ “I know it!”  _ Juho shouts back aggressively, stunning Seokwoo for a moment at the emotion behind his voice.  _ “Damnit, Seokwoo, I know what they’re gonna do to him! I know it like you know your own fucking name, so please just trust me and help them!” _


	6. the first one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work contains dark elements. Reader discretion is advised.

Chanhee wakes up to a pair of arms wrapped tightly around his waist, holding him still and possessively. He sinks slowly backwards, feeling the grip loosen before he’s drawn fast to the body behind him once again. He smiles tiredly.

“Good morning, baby,” Taeyang murmurs, his tone low next to Chanhee’s ear. He lightens his squeezing on the younger’s sides, instead replacing it by carelessly throwing his leg over the other’s, anchoring them both to the bed. “Sleep well?”

Chanhee smiles at the way Taeyang’s breath brushes gently against his neck. Slowly, he nods, turning in Taeyang’s grasp to press closer to the older. “Yeah, I did,” he yawns, “did you?”

The dark haired man hums, closing his eyes. “Yeah.”

“That’s good,” Chanhee breathes, reaching up to wrap his arms around the other’s neck. “I think you should call out of work today.” He murmurs. “Stay home with me instead, okay? We can do whatever you want…” Chanhee offers, mischievously ghosting his lips over the other’s.

Taeyang rolls his eyes, closing the distance between them for only a fraction of a second before pulling away. “You know I can’t do that,” he mumbles, pouting. “I’d love to spend the day with you, though… How about we do as much as we can before I go in, and then tonight I’ll take you out and make up for the interruption?”

Chanhee has a bad feeling settling in his stomach when the other confirms that he has to go into work. He hesitantly nods, burying his face against the older’s shirt in hopes that it’ll calm his nerves in some way. “Okay,” he agrees softly, squeezing his eyes closed. 

Taeyang laughs, sliding his leg off of the other before attempting to get out of bed. Chanhee stays glued to his front, though, and the dark haired man huffs before peeling him off and stepping out of bed. 

Immediately, though, he reaches back and drags Chanhee back against himself, hugging the younger as he wraps his legs around his hips. 

“You’re so cute,” Taeyang hums, kissing the top of the other’s head gently. “Fuck, I wanna stay home with you so bad…”

“You still can,” Chanhee knows the other can’t. He knows that his job is set in stone with no room for negotiation. 

“I wish,” Taeyang allows the other to slide off of his lap, and he sighs. “How’re your legs, baby?”

“Fine,” Chanhee glances down, not wanting to pay much mind to the injuries. Taeyang huffs.

“Just because you can’t feel it doesn’t mean it’s fine.”

“I’m fine!” Chanhee stands, waving the other off quickly, smiling. “It’s fine, I’m okay.”

Taeyang raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press the other, shrugging before he nods. “Alright. Just make sure you clean them again today… Just in case.” He adds on softly. Chanhee nods swiftly.

“I will, I will.” He walks over to his dresser, digging through it for a moment before looking up to Taeyang as he stands and stretches. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Hmm? Alright,” Taeyang yawns, “do you want me to make anything for breakfast?”

“Nah. Let’s go out,” Chanhee shakes his head. Taeyang agrees before leaving the bedroom, and Chanhee sighs. 

He still feels an uncomfortable sense of dread hanging over him, but he tries to ignore it as best as he can as he grabs his clothes from the dresser.

Taeyang waits for Chanhee idly on the couch, his laptop opened on his legs and his phone on speaker on his chest.

“So, what’s the plan?”

_ “He likes redheads.” _

Taeyang scoffs. “Okay, well,” he mumbles, “I’m talking about attack. I don’t care what I look like when I do it.”

_ “He usually hires women to sit with him before events.” _ The voice over the phone cuts in sharply.  _ “So go with that. You’ll be able to slip in through the front door of the place, it’s a public event. I’ll send you the location.”  _

Taeyang nods, glancing down at his phone when a notification lights his screen. “Okay, I got it. How am I gonna do it without being suspicious?”

_ “You can do whatever you please to. Might I suggest a drug you can slip into his drink?” _

“Then that’s how it’ll go down.” Taeyang smiles. “And what about my escape?”

_ “He’ll be dead by the time he hits the stage if you time things right, so you should’ve already left of your own accord by then.” _

“Doesn’t sound too bad.” Taeyang purses his lips, clicking idly on his laptop as he unlocks the device. “Alright, I’ll get to fixing my appearance now… Think I’ll head out around five.”

_ “The showcase starts at seven.” _

“I’ve got it,” Taeyang yawns again, silently wishing he could still be in bed with Chanhee. “I have plenty of time. I’ll give you a heads up before I head in.”

The call ends and Taeyang sighs, opening up a program on his laptop before sitting up. He sets the device down on the coffee table beside the couch, swinging his legs over the edge so he can type on it easier.

He decides to go easy on himself as he looks over the program that would determine what he looked like upon putting in his contacts. There’s a small icon in the left corner that shows what choices are already selected, and he changes nothing except the hair color for the OTO head’s preference. 

He doesn’t know who had created the program, but he’s grateful for them. His employer had sent him the download link for it when he’d first begun working for them, along with his first pair of contacts.

When he finishes with his minor adjustments, he pushes the laptop away, laying back down before closing his eyes. He doesn’t want to go into work today. Even last night, when he’d first been contacted about the job, he couldn’t say no. 

He didn’t pick his jobs, and he wasn’t allowed to disagree with anything his employer told him to do. That was dangerous - that would get him killed.

He’s nearly falling asleep once again when he feels something heavy collapse onto his chest, and he gasps as he opens his eyes.

“What?” Chanhee blinks, eyes wide as Taeyang’s hands jump upwards defensively.

“ _ Fuck _ , you scared me,” Taeyang laughs, scrunching up his face when a stray drop of cold water from Chanhee’s soaked hair drops onto his nose. “How was your shower?”

“It was okay,” the younger buries his face against Taeyang’s shoulder. “Did you take care of your work stuff?” 

“Yeah, we’ve got until five to do whatever.” Taeyang places a light hand upon the other’s back, holding him down and against himself securely. “Are you okay?”

There’s a tenseness in Chanhee’s shoulders that Taeyang almost ignores, but he instead draws his hands up and over them, rubbing the other’s back softly in hopes to alleviate the pressure the other carries with himself.

“I’m fine.”

“What’s going on?”

Chanhee sighs, burying himself closer to Taeyang.. “I’m really freaked out about you going out tonight.” 

Taeyang smiles, closing his eyes as he lays his head back. He continues to massage the other’s shoulders gently, his fingertips kneading the other’s skin in hopes that it’ll relieve the tension, even slightly. 

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Taeyang says. “I’ve done jobs like this for a while now, I know what I’m doing.”

“I know, but…” Chanhee sighs. “I dunno… I just feel like something bad’s gonna happen.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

Taeyang moves a hand to raise the other’s head, slowly pressing his lips against the other’s. Chanhee’s shoulders finally drop, and Taeyang pulls away once they do.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He assures. “I’ll be home before seven, maybe eight at the latest if something goes wrong.” 

Chanhee nods, dully laying his head back down atop the other’s chest. “Okay.”

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that…” Taeyang frowns at the sorrow in the other’s tone. “I’m here, right? I’ve never gotten caught before, and I don’t plan on it tonight.” Chanhee hides his face from the other. “Baby…”

“If you don’t come back, I’ll kill you.”

“Then I’ll make sure I’m back,” Taeyang hums.

Chanhee smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He draws circles on the other’s chest with his finger, his eyes dull as he stares off at the wall. Taeyang sighs, continuing to run a hand over the other’s back as he closes his eyes again. 

There was nothing he could do.

* * *

Chanhee’s still worried.

Taeyang can see it written all over his face as he gets ready, wearing clothes he himself is comfortable in rather than something to impress his victim. A white sweater and black jeans, light jewelry on his neck and fingers. It’s comfortable and he’d worn it out plenty of times before - Chanhee knows the outfit well. 

Chanhee sits on the edge of the sink, toying with Taeyang’s hair as he applies a light amount of makeup. The dark haired man had never liked the stuff; it made his face feel heavy in a way. Though, Chanhee had always commented on how he thought the older looked nice, so Taeyang didn’t mind it much.

They hadn’t done anything that day. Though they’d brought up leaving to get breakfast earlier that morning, they hadn’t left their home. Taeyang had cooked, but his mind had been so preoccupied with thoughts of his job that he doesn’t even remember what he’d made.

The rest of the day they’d spent back on the couch, not saying much of anything as they both worried. 

Taeyang, about Chanhee and making sure he’d come home to him, and Chanhee, about Taeyang being able to pull off the largest job he’d been given thus far.

Now, the clock edges closer to five, and Taeyang feels his own heart begin to race.

“You’ll be fine,” Chanhee whispers, as if he’s trying to convince himself of the statement just as much as he attempts to convince Taeyang.

“I’ll be fine,” Taeyang repeats, nodding. He usually got nervous before his jobs, but this feels different in a strange way. It’s as if he can feel something lurking just beyond his sight, waiting for him to be unprepared before it strikes. “I’ll be fine.”

He tries to clear his head of his worrying thoughts, of the questions that persist, begging for the answers to  _ what if I don’t make it out? What if I get arrested? What if I fail? _

Chanhee tugs lightly on Taeyang’s hair, and the older quickly raises his head to kiss the other’s forehead. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” Chanhee smiles, but the expression quickly fades into a frown. “You’re gonna be fine.”

“I’ll be fine.” Taeyang states calmly, his stomach dropping when he realizes that there’s a chance that he might  _ not  _ be fine. “I’ll text you, okay?” 

It’s nearly five; he needs to go. Chanhee nods, his bangs bouncing in front of his face lightly as he does so.

“But only if you have a minute to, don’t get distracted.” Chanhee commands, pouting. “Worry about your job before you worry about me.” 

“That’ll be tough,” Taeyang whispers, raising his hand to cup the brunette’s cheek lightly. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Be safe.”

Taeyang nods, turning to leave before Chanhee calls out to him from the bathroom, causing him to stall for a moment.

“Hey, I love you!”

Taeyang smiles, his hand raised before the front door, the knob underneath his fingertips, his skin ghosting over the cold metal. 

“I love you, too!” He calls back, opening the door and stepping into the hallway. 

The door slams shut behind him. He winces at the loudness of it, hesitantly taking his hand off of the doorknob as he takes a step further into the hallway.

He shoves a hand into his pocket, pulling out the small bluetooth device that would connect him to his employer while he was on the job. It was his tether to the outside, his lifeline if he were to get stuck in a situation he didn’t know the way out of.

The device beeps as it turns on, and he presses it into his ear slowly as he begins to walk down the hallway.

_ “You’re on your way?” _

“Yes.”

_ “Good.”  _ There’s a soft shuffling of papers on the other end of the call.  _ “You understand that if anything happens while you’re in there, we may not be able to pull you out?” _

Taeyang winces, nodding slowly as he continues to walk. He reaches the elevators all too quickly for his own liking. He thumbs the button for the lobby.

“Yes.”

_ “And you understand that any failure on your part will terminate your contract with us?” _

“Of course.”

_ “Then you’re all good to go.”  _ The woman sighs. Taeyang had to answer the two questions each time he went out on a job - a verbal contract for their business together. Tonight, though, the questions carry an odd weight.

“I’m a little nervous,” he confesses finally. He didn’t want to admit it to Chanhee and worry the younger, but there would be no repercussions if he spoke about his feelings with his employer. She wouldn’t care so long as the job was done. 

_ “You are? That’s unusual. You’re our best hitman.” _

Taeyang smiles softly at the compliment, thanking her quietly. “Thank you, but still… This is a really big job.”

_ “I gave it to you for a reason - I’m confident in your abilities.” _

“Are you? I just…” Taeyang steps out of the elevator, looking around before leaving the building. He walks down the scenic path towards the parking garage slowly, taking in the beauty of his surroundings idly. “I’m just worried.”

_ “You have nothing to be worried about. I gave you this job for a reason.”  _ His employer repeats.

Taeyang frowns, but decides it’s better not to argue. She’ll only repeat herself, and he’ll only grow more concerned. He tries not to think much about what’s ahead of him when he reaches the parking garage, purposefully slowing his steps in order to draw out the time between him locating his car and him arriving at the destination.

-

**(ME): in the car, just got here @-@**

**CHANHEE: be safe !! T___T**

**(ME): i will be !! i love u :)**

**CHANHEE: make sure you text me when youre on your way back. rmb that i have men all over the place haha if you need a distraction to get out of there or something quick just lmk!! i can get you one**

**CHANHEE: omg im like ur support character in a video game lol just press b for instant heals <3**

**(ME): B**

**CHANHEE: !!! <33333 !!!**

Taeyang sighs as he lays back in the backseat, unhappily screwing the cap off of the contacts case that feels oddly heavier than it had the night before. He groans and tilts his head back before pressing the devices into his eyes, blinking heavily when they’re finally in. 

It’s not that his body had physically changed - it only appeared like it had. It was a clever device, recalled for a reason. He isn’t sure of the mechanics entirely himself, but he knows it has to do with the citizenship chips.

Everybody had one; sewn into their heads once they were sixteen. Removing the chip was seen as a federal offense. And, though everybody had one, a mandatory mechanical addition to their being, only a select few knew what they were used for. Taeyang believes they’re tracking devices - Chanhee has a theory they’re something for mind control.

Regardless, all Taeyang knows is that his contacts screw with the citizenship chip in a way that can help him appear differently. He assumes it’s similar to some contacts the police were known to use, which displayed strangers’ names and ages and such to the user. Though, devices such as those are relatively legal since only the user was affected - contacts that affect everyone  _ but _ the user weren’t ethical enough to be made legal. 

Taeyang has a pair, though, and they make his job easier. He opens his eyes and sighs, checking the time on his phone before he pockets the device and steps out of the car. 

He brushes a hand through his hair as he begins walking towards the address he’d been sent by his employer. 

He parked as far as he could from it, and idly mulls over his plan as he navigates through the city. It’s busy, and he’s thankful for it. The people act as a protective shield, and he feels safer surrounded by strangers than he would feel alone. 

He has a small pill in his pocket, one Chanhee had saved for an emergency  _ just in case _ . The younger was always meeting with dangerous people, and killing wasn’t new to him. He’d drop the poison into a drink immediately if it solidified his chances of survival in a dangerous situation, and had been almost eager to give Taeyang the pill.

Taeyang figures it’s because Chanhee was playing a part, in a small way, to the operation Taeyang was working on. He’d helped out and knew that Taeyang’s weapon was a solid one, with a 100% fatality rate if administered correctly. It’s just up to the older now to succeed in his mission.

He’ll enter the building, find the OTO head, get him alone and finish his job. 

The plan isn’t fleshed out, not at all, but it’s enough for Taeyang to be satisfied with. 

He can’t find himself feeling any more confident, however. He’s still nervous, his heart beating quickly as he closes in on the building. 

_ “You’re only a few minutes away,”  _ the voice in his ear suddenly makes him jump, and he quickly reaches up to brush his fingers against the earpiece. 

“How am I getting in?” Taeyang’s beginning to forget information that his employer had already told him - he’s afraid now, ever so slightly afraid.

_ “It’s an open event, just say you were invited by Mr. Kim if anybody asks.” _

“Well who’s that?”

_ “A known procurer who usually sends women to the OTO men. We have quite a bit of intel on him and his relations with the corporation, so don’t worry too much about it.” _

“Got it.” Taeyang scoffs. “And what if he tells them he didn’t invite me?”

_ “He doesn’t attend the events himself, he only arranges for some women to arrive there. You’ll be fine.” _

There’s a short bit of static in Taeyang’s ear as the bluetooth cuts out, and he takes a deep breath when he sees the building in front of himself. There’s a line leading out of the front door, and Taeyang steps silently into the back of it.

It moves upwards too quickly for his own liking, and soon he finds himself walking into the intimidating, loud building. He’s thankful when he sees that he’s not underdressed at all - mostly everybody he saw was wearing casual, but nice, clothing, and he breathes a soft sigh of relief.

Somebody calls out nearby suddenly, and he turns quickly, confused until he realizes that he’s being taken out of the line to go through a metal detector before he’s allowed to enter the event. 

“Miss,” the security officer beckons him over, and quickly he approaches them.

“Sorry, lost in thought,” Taeyang smiles. “Just through here?” He widens his eyes, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. 

He has an odd, anxious fear that somehow somebody’s going to see through his disguise, but the security guard simply nods and motions to the scanner beside himself. Though, he pauses Taeyang before he steps onto it. 

“Put your phone and any other device you might have on you in this,” he states gruffly, holding out a small box. Taeyang quickly obliges, dropping his phone into the box. The security guard keeps him stopped, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “The earpiece?”

“Oh!” Taeyang winces, wishing that he’d thought ahead and covered the device with the long, red hair he’d designed earlier that morning to flow around his shoulders loosely. “Right, sorry, completely forgot about it…” He takes the device out of his ear and drops it into the box, praying that he’ll get it back.

He’s allowed finally to step onto the small, black square on the floor. It glows orange for a moment when he pauses on top of it, flashing green seconds later. Taeyang steps off of it, happily taking his phone and earpiece back from the box before he disappears into the main room of the building.

The event’s being held in the lobby of a hotel. Taeyang wonders if the entire building had been rented out for the occasion, but feels that it’s strongly unlikely as he wanders around the large room. He knows that his job’s lurking somewhere nearby.

Hopefully.

He knows what to look for, the man’s appearance seared into his brain from the photographs he’d seen before of him. A lanky, older man with black hair and an unhappy face. He had a small scar next to his eye, red and blotchy, but small and easy to overlook if you weren’t looking for it.

Taeyang searches for that detail specifically, carefully looking to people’s eyes as he passes them. He walks through the thick crowd cautiously, unsure of how he’ll go about searching for the man if this initial quick sweep is unsuccessful. 

Though, he stalls when he hears a loud group speaking nearby, and he curiously peeks towards it through the curtain of people between him and them. 

They’re dressed a bit more nicely, in suits and dress shirts, and Taeyang figures there’s a better chance of his prey being amongst them than among those who had wandered in from the street crowd. He walks a bit closer to it, inspecting each face as best as he can from a distance where he doesn’t appear suspicious. 

No scar - he sighs, pursing his lips before walking away. 

_ “What are you waiting for?” _

Taeyang raises his hand, pressing it gently to his earpiece. “I can’t find him.”

_ “The showcase starts in half an hour, hurry up. How fast does your poison work?” _

Taeyang presses his palm more securely over his ear, worried that somebody may hear the woman speaking to him. “Like, five minutes I think?”

_ “You’re almost out of time.” _

“I know.” Taeyang hisses, glaring. “Let me-”

There’s a small flash from somewhere close to him, and Taeyang looks up just in time to see an all too familiar face passing by in the crowd. There’s a security guard beside him, and Taeyang’s eyes widen. He’s sure that he’s used his entire life supply of luck in that one instant, and prays he’ll be able to get at least one more drop of it as he follows the man, his hand falling from off of his earpiece.

He reaches the man when he reaches an elevator, and Taeyang fixes his hair before smiling when the man’s gaze darts to him.

The security guard presses a button to summon the elevator, and when the doors swing open Taeyang and the man still haven’t looked away from each other. The OTO head sees a woman, likely innocent, staring up at him, and Taeyang sees a man who he will kill in a matter of minutes. 

When the OTO head smiles and makes a small motion with his head towards the elevator, silently inviting Taeyang to join him, the deceitful man knows that his luck’s run out. It’s dried up; the rest of tonight will be a test of his skill. 

Taeyang steps into the elevator, hearing some soft whispers from the people standing nearby as he does so. 

The OTO head says nothing until the doors swing shut again, and Taeyang realizes almost immediately that the security guard hadn’t followed them into the elevator. They’re alone.

“Are you here for the showcase?” The man questions, his voice low and honeyed. Taeyang forces a smile, nodding.

“I am,” he responds lightly, pitching his voice up. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for it, sir?”

“I should be,” he laughs. Taeyang looks down, his smile dropping into a look of disgust before he recovers quickly and looks back up to the older man. “That’s what I’m going to my room to do right now.”

“Your room,” Taeyang hums, raising an eyebrow before smiling. He feels himself recoiling internally when he realizes where the conversation’s going to go, but nonetheless continues. He  _ hates  _ this part. “Well, do you need any help with that?” He giggles softly. The man looks confused for a moment before he squints at the other, their unbroken eye contact making Taeyang shiver for some reason.

He then raises his eyebrows, his laugh returning as a delighted smile crosses his face. “Bold, aren’t we?” 

Taeyang wants to throw up. He’s never gotten used to this aspect of his job, but he supposes he’s good enough at it. Tricking rich men is easy; they’re stupid, and Taeyang knows that becoming somebody that his victims would be attracted to only makes them easier to manipulate. 

The doors of the elevator swing open, and Taeyang’s surprised when he sees a nearly empty hallway. There’s only a few people mulling around the space, but none of them disturb the two as they walk down the hall.

The older man reaches into his pocket before grabbing his room key, pausing in front of the final door on the floor. Taeyang takes note of the room number, 236, before the door slides open and the two step inside. 

When the door slides shut once again, the older man looks over his shoulder. “You’re one of Kim’s girls?”

“I am.” Taeyang nods, standing awkwardly by the door as the man walks further into the room. 

“Well, come in,” the other laughs, “don’t be so shy. Would you like a drink?”

“Only if you’re having one,” Taeyang says slyly, watching the other grab two glasses from off of a tray on the hotel room’s table, a glass of champagne between them. He fills both of the crystal glasses with the golden liquid, and hands over Taeyang’s glass to him. 

Taeyang thanks him quietly, knowing better than to drink any of what he’d been given. He holds the cold glass gingerly, sitting on the edge of the hotel’s bed. The man stands before him, taking a slow sip of his drink.

“What’s your name?”

Taeyang freezes, but recovers swiftly, “Dahui.” He says the first name that comes to his head, spitting it out quickly and hoping that it’ll match the face he wears.

“Dahui.” The OTO head repeats, smirking. “Kim’s never spoken about you, dear.”

“I’m new, sir,” Taeyang smiles easily, adjusting his collar idly. He bites his lip as he looks up to the other. 

“I see.” The man takes another sip of his drink before setting it down on the table. “Please, you’re being too formal. Call me Mr. Park.”

“Mr. Park,” Taeyang repeats, nodding before he looks down. He doesn’t know where to go from here - the glass is on the table, his time is limited, but the man is watchful of his motions. He’s trapped himself on the bed, having expected for the other to sit beside him.

He jumps slightly when the man reaches down, placing a finger underneath his chin before raising it slowly. Taeyang’s forced to look up at him, and he smiles softly before reaching up to brush his fingertips against Mr. Park’s. 

“Take out the contacts.”

Taeyang freezes.

“What?” He whispers, laughing. “I won’t be able to see you, my eyesight’s poor.” Taeyang defends cautiously. He doesn’t ask how the other had known he was wearing them - there was probably a physical tell, maybe a line around his iris or an unnatural glisten to his eyes as the light reflected off of the device, but plenty of people wore contacts. It shouldn’t be a problem.

Park knows.

Mr. Park sighs, his smile becoming tired. “I want to see who’s really in front of me.”

Taeyang doesn’t know what to say other than to ignorantly defend himself.

“I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Park.” He murmurs, shaking his head. He desperately holds onto the prayer that the other would let it go, that he’d kill him successfully and be on his way home to Chanhee.

The other’s grip becomes tighter, and Taeyang winces. He doesn’t pull away, though, facing the other strongly. 

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” Mr. Park states. “I can either call the police now, or you can have a conversation with me without those contacts in.”

Taeyang hears his bluetooth go dead. It’s then when he realizes that it’s game over. His employer had just cut him, had severed his one lifeline to the outside when she had heard the situation he’d fallen into.

With nothing left to lose, he reaches upwards and removes the contacts, shame lighting his face as he looks back up to the other.

Hiding was useless now; he’d already been caught.

Mr. Park nods, taking in Taeyang’s true appearance slowly. 

“You’re younger than I expected.” The man murmurs, clapping his hands together a moment later. 

Taeyang remains silent. Mr. Park scoffs. “Well, where should we go from here?” He smirks condescendingly. 

Taeyang tries to figure out what he can do now. He can’t text Chanhee; he can’t risk letting the other know that he has his phone on him. He has no help on the outside, has to come up with a plan alone and within the next few moments.

At his silence, Park continues. “You’re not getting out of this one, you know.”

“How the hell did you know?”

“Know what?”

“The  _ contacts _ ,” Taeyang grits his teeth, glaring upwards. The other’s right - he can’t escape now. He doesn’t have a weapon, only the poison, and it’s useless now. If he’d only brought his gun, he’d be out of here by now. “How did you know I was wearing the fucking contacts?” Said devices sit in his hand now, clenched tightly in his fist. 

“Oh, your employer told me about them.”

Taeyang stills, his blood running cold.

He stares up at the older man with horrified eyes. “My… My what?”

“They sold you out, kid.” The man sneers, bringing a hand to his back before drawing something out from his belt. Taeyang hadn’t noticed it before, and knows what it is immediately by the click of the safety turning off without even needing to look at the other’s hand. “Don’t move.”

“You knew the entire time,” Taeyang murmurs, looking down at the floor. He raises a hand to grab his earpiece slowly, dropping it dejectedly onto the carpeted floor of the hotel bedroom. He doesn’t heed the other’s warning not to move, but after the earpiece hits the floor he goes still once more. “They told you I was coming?”

“Every detail,” Park confirms, pressing the gun he holds to Taeyang’s forehead. His free hand reaches for his phone, sliding it out of his pocket. “Here’s what’s gonna happen: I’m calling somebody up here to bring you outside. You’ll cooperate, and you won’t get shot.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because we’ll kill you if you resist,” Park states authoritatively, lifting his phone to his ear, “or if you’d rather, we can find your little boyfriend instead.”

Taeyang’s eyes widen, and he looks up to the other through his eyelashes to the best of his ability without moving his head. “You’re bluffing.” He’s sure of it - they couldn’t have Chanhee’s information as well as his own. All his employer knew was… 

His expression falls when he realizes that his employers knew  _ everything _ , and Park laughs when he sees the realization dawn on Taeyang. 

“Hello? Yeah, he came.” Park says into the phone, pausing for a moment. A muffled voice that Taeyang can’t fully make out speaks rushedly through the other end of the call. “We won’t be late, it’s fine. Just come up here and grab him.”

“What the fuck are you-”

Park lowers the gun, pressing it warningly against Taeyang’s lips. The younger takes the hint, drawing them together tightly to silence himself. 

His employer had sold him out. He doesn’t know why - he’d been loyal, always completed his work, and had never failed any task given to him. Was it because of his pay?

It must have been. Taeyang had only just begun to be paid more and more for his work, his rate increasing with each job he’d been given. And, it’s not like they could have just  _ let him go _ , that could potentially lead to them being caught and arrested - executed for their crimes if Taeyang decided to sell them out. 

Taeyang squeezes his hands together into tight fists, desperately trying to think of a way out of the situation. If he could just manage to text Chanhee, then he could get the younger to send in his men. He feels cowardly, needing to rely on Chanhee for help, but knows deep down that they’re a team. They’d use any resource to keep each other safe - he shouldn’t feel weak for needing help.

He can’t reach for his phone now, not with the gun still pressed to his lips. 

When Park ends with his call, he pulls the gun away, but keeps it trained loosely towards Taeyang. “You’re seriously too young to be doing this. How old are you, twenty?”

Taeyang knows the other already knows. He also knows there’s no point in lying - he has no weapon, and if he defies the OTO head in any way, he may provoke him into pulling the trigger. He decides that until there’s an opening for him to escape, he’ll play along with the other’s game.

“Twenty one.”

The man nods. “Too young,” he repeats, about to speak once more before the door to the hotel room’s pushed open. 

A man steps into the room quietly, glancing towards the bed with tired eyes. He’s young, as well, but dressed in a security uniform with such a range of weapons on his belt that Taeyang’s afraid to even think of resisting him.

“Come with me,” he mutters monotonously, appearing uninterested in Taeyang as his eyes jump around the room boredly. 

“Working alone, Jihoon?”

“For now. They sent me because they’re trying to find an opening to bring in two more guys.”

At Jihoon’s words, Park raises an eyebrow. The younger man standing by the door shrugs. “Guess one of them’s the guy who escaped last night.”

“Ah, I see.” Park smiles, reaching down to grab Taeyang by the collar of the shirt before dragging him upwards. The dark haired man gasps, stumbling to his feet quickly. He’s pushed then towards the other man, Jihoon, who only grabs Taeyang’s arm to steady him when he’s close.

“Don’t try anything,” he whispers monotonously, “I have a gun.”

“I fucking know,” Taeyang responds aggressively, narrowing his eyes. He can hear Park begin speaking behind him as he’s led to leave the room by Jihoon.

“Bring him to the prep building and follow procedure 73,” the OTO head calls dismissively, not saying anything else as Jihoon drags an unwilling Taeyang outside, the room door slamming shut behind them.

-

Chanhee had watched the clock tick closer and closer to seven, and when he’d never received a message from Taeyang, he’d left. He’d gone to the showcase, knowing that the other must have been in the area  _ somewhere _ , and had begun looking for him.

His search was fruitless. Taeyang was nowhere to be found, and Chanhee was unable to figure out what building the pre-showcase event had been held in. Of course, it had ended by the time he’d arrived at the plaza, and he had realized that it would be pointless for him to show up there because Taeyang wouldn’t be there anymore, either.

The showcase started without any delay. Mr. Park of the OTO corporation had stepped onto the stage, and Chanhee realized that something had happened. He didn’t know what, but something bad had happened to Taeyang.

He hadn’t felt anything after meeting Inseong and Sanghyuk. Numbness overtook him, swallowing him completely as he was forced to come to terms with the fact that Taeyang had been taken from him. 

The group hadn’t stayed in the alley for long. As soon as night had fallen they’d arrived back at the plaza where the showcase was being held, only to see that it had finished up. Workers stood on the stage, dismantling the microphones and decorations as there was nothing left that night to be displayed. Some people still wandered through the area, standing in small groups as some made plans and others called cars to take them away. 

Chanhee had watched them all absently, faces passing him in a blur as he’d attempted to process Taeyang’s disappearance.

“Chanhee.”

He snaps back to the present, looking up from the table in front of him to face Youngkyun. The group had realized soon after abandoning the alley that they were being followed, and they decided to hide in a crowded bar in hopes to lose whoever was after them. Inseong had been adamant on the fact that it was two of the people who had shoved him and Sanghyuk in the van that were after them.

“Have you been paying attention?”

“No,” he confesses, murmuring quietly underneath the loud background noise of the bar. “Sorry, I’ve been trying to come up with something.”

“It’s fine, have you figured anything out?”

“No.” Chanhee frowns. “I can’t contact any of my men about this; they’ll make it worse by interfering when we don’t know anything yet. We need to figure out where he is and why, but that’s already proving to be difficult… We have no leads.”

Youngkyun nods, looking away for a moment before sighing. “We’ll find him.”

Chanhee nods, but his heart sinks lower and lower as he realizes that he’d failed. He’d sworn to himself that he’d protect Taeyang, and now the other was gone. 

“We should figure out what we’re doing tonight, though,” Seokwoo mumbles, finally joining the conversation. “You two can’t go home, right?”

“It’s probably not smart for us to,” Inseong shakes his head, scoffing. “There’s no way they’re not looking for us right now, I’m sure the first place they’re gonna check is my house.”

“Then you can stay with me,” the dark haired man offers, smiling tiredly. “I have space.”

Youngkyun turns to glance at Chanhee, forcing a smile when he meets the younger’s gaze. “I’m gonna stay with you tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m worried about you,” Youngkyun lowers his voice, not wanting to be overheard by the others at their table. “I’ve never seen you so quiet.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“I am,” Chanhee insists, setting his jaw sternly. He pins his teeth together so tightly that they begin to ache. “You’re not coming home with me.”

Youngkyun narrows his eyes. “I respect you, but I think shutting us out like this is a really bad idea. You’re my friend, Chanhee, I want to be here for you.”

“I’m not shutting you out,” Chanhee dismisses, “I’m just…” He shakes his head, deciding quickly that he doesn’t want to explain himself to the other. He can’t try to understand his emotions - if he does, the weight of them will break him. He can only force himself to remain neutral. “I’m fine, you should worry about yourself.”

All Chanhee knows is that, besides the numbness encasing him, his heart is aching. He can’t think straight - he wants to speak but he can’t, his tongue a weight that he can’t lift to force out words that would showcase what he’s feeling. So instead he sits silent, staring at the table, waiting for Youngkyun to do or say something,  _ anything _ . The silence hovering around him is deafening.

“Are you sure?”

Chanhee can hear guilt in Youngkyun’s voice, and when he looks up to the long haired brunette he nods. 

Youngkyun looks like he’s fighting with himself, looking anywhere but at Chanhee as he begrudgingly agrees to keep out of the younger’s space once they parted ways for the night.

“I think-”

“-We gotta go.”

Seokwoo’s cut off by Inseong, who stands abruptly from the table. It’s forceful enough to grab Chanhee’s attention, and the man looks up to see what stirred Inseong.

Sanghyuk stands beside him, a hand gently wrapped around the pink haired man’s forearm as he stares towards the entrance to the bar. Chanhee follows his gaze, finding it stalling on a group of white clad figures that approach them slowly.

“OTO?” Seokwoo mumbles, drawing his lips together tightly before looking around. “Let’s get out of here.”

_ “You should use the back door.” _

Chanhee catches the way Inseong glances at Seokwoo’s phone, a concerned look passing his features for only a moment before he raises his hand to pull Sanghyuk’s arm off of his own. His fingers stay looped tightly around the other man’s wrist, keeping a steady hold on him as he begins to back up and away from the small cluster of figures still advancing towards them.

“Do you think one of them knows where Taeyang is?”

Youngkyun’s eyes widen at Chanhee’s question, and he quickly shakes his head. “That’s too impulsive, you can’t. We have to go.”

“I know,” Chanhee mumbles, “but, still…”

Seokwoo gently urges Chanhee and Youngkyun away from their side of the table and towards Inseong and Sanghyuk who stand on the other side. 

“Come on,” he murmurs, “we can talk later.”

Youngkyun doesn’t need to be told twice; he steps away and moves behind Inseong, peering over the older man’s shoulder as Seokwoo needs to continue pushing Chanhee. The younger became rooted to the floor at the thought that there was a possibility somebody approaching had information on Taeyang’s whereabouts. 

He can’t snap out of it. He can feel Seokwoo dragging him now, the other suddenly in front of him with a hand around his own in an attempt to force him forward and away from the imminent danger, but Chanhee digs his heels into the floor. 

Besides, the back door wouldn’t be safe to leave through, anyway. Anybody planning an attack like this wouldn’t leave such a vital exit point open - they were trapped inside. Chanhee knows it, but doubts the others do. Well, at least most of them. Inseong seems hesitant to approach the back door, as well.

“We need a distraction.” Chanhee whispers, ripping his hand away from Seokwoo. “It’s not safe to use the back door.”

He decides to turn to Inseong - they’re relatively on the same page. The pink haired man seems to be more versed in situations like this than anybody else in their makeshift group is. 

“Do you have a weapon on you?”

“I don’t want to make this a shootout,” Chanhee feels himself shifting into work mode, and knows that it would be stupid to keep himself from doing so. If he keeps focusing on Taeyang, he won’t make it out of the bar. He hates himself for it, but he pushes his worry to the back of his mind as he tries to come up with something,  _ anything _ , that can get him out of this situation.

Inseong glances at the group, which now closes in on them from all sides. He turns around, and upon seeing another crowded table nearby, he approaches it cautiously. He releases Sanghyuk from his grip, and Chanhee takes Inseong’s place beside the cautious, dark haired man.

He watches as the older picks up a drink and throws it into another man’s face. 

There’s a sudden outburst caused by his actions, and for a moment Chanhee’s stunned as he debates his next move. Does he trust these strangers enough for this? He only knows Youngkyun, and had only met Seokwoo once, briefly, before now. How does he know that they’re not incompetent? 

It’s too late to worry about that now - he grabs the back of a chair and pulls it into his grip before swinging it blindly in the direction of somebody he doesn’t know in the immediate vicinity around himself. His target doesn’t matter, he just needs to hit somebody.

And, he does hit somebody. Somebody much taller than him, physically clearly more stronger than him. He tries not to panic when the stranger stands, holding tightly onto the back of the chair, using the object as a shield now.

“What the  _ fuck _ !?”

Chanhee feels somebody tear him backwards when the man swings. 

He drops the chair, the loud clatter of it drawing the rest of the bar’s attention that the chaos Inseong started hadn’t already obtained. Chanhee watches as Sanghyuk catches the man’s fist, holding it still for a moment while his free hand still grips the back of Chanhee’s shirt. 

“I’ve got it,” he whispers, releasing the younger, “go help Inseong.”

Chanhee nods, slipping out of the older’s way before turning to watch him promptly drop the man. At each table the group had stirred, confused citizens began standing, shock and adrenaline powering them to stop the sudden assault directed towards the unlucky source of the group’s distraction.

Inseong shoves somebody into one of the OTO workers, clearing a small gap for Youngkyun to slip through, using Chanhee’s method to grab a dejected chair before smashing it over another white-clad man’s head. 

Confusion ensues when the lights flicker and power down. Chanhee thinks he hears the voice on Seokwoo’s phone say something, but he doesn’t focus on it. Around him, people begin blindly attacking each other, and he tries to grab onto Inseong in an attempt to get his attention.

Instead of finding Inseong, the older finds him when his unknowing hand curls around Chanhee’s collar and drags him towards himself. His fist pauses inches away from Chanhee’s cheek, and his eyes widen as he drops the younger. 

“Shit, sorry!” He calls over the loud voices screaming around them, immediately placing his hand on the younger’s shoulder. “Where’s Sanghyuk?”

“Here,” Chanhee hears somebody mumble above him, and he looks back to find Seokwoo not far from them, either.

“Youngkyun’s outside, I watched him bolt.” Seokwoo informs, an amused smile on his face as if the room wasn’t in shambles around them, as if they couldn’t become subject to somebody’s blind fury in a matter of seconds. 

Inseong nods, and wordlessly backs towards the front door, which now remains unguarded. Sanghyuk follows immediately after him, and Seokwoo and Chanhee fall into step behind them as they make their escape.

Only seconds away from the door, Seokwoo disappears from beside Chanhee with a muffled gasp. The younger whips around, squinting as he searches for the other in the dark. He can only make out silhouettes and some faces illuminated by phones, but there’s no Seokwoo.

Part of him wants to turn and leave, but he knows that’s not an option as he reaches out in the direction the other had vanished in. 

“What the hell are you doing!?” Inseong shouts nearby, grabbing ahold of Chanhee’s collar once again, unaware of the absence beside him.

“Wait, Seokwoo!” Chanhee feels his panic finally starting to set in, and he turns to face the other quickly. “He’s gone.”

“ _ Not _ your problem.” Inseong hisses, yanking Chanhee towards the door. The moment the younger’s outside, Inseong enters the building once again.

Chanhee makes a move to follow him inside, but Youngkyun grabs his arm tightly. 

“Please don’t.”

Youngkyun’s desperation drips from his voice heavily. It’s laced with concern and exhaustion, and if Chanhee didn’t care so much about the other he would pull away and dart back into the bar. Though, he allows Youngkyun to pull him backwards, to hold onto him tightly and keep him rooted to the pavement underfoot. 

Sanghyuk stands tensely beside them, his arms crossed as he stares at the door with an unblinking gaze.

“We shouldn’t be out here in the open.”

“Well we can’t leave without them!” Youngkyun cries out. Chanhee silently agrees with him.

“Well that’s not what I was implying!” Sanghyuk mocks Youngkyun, using the same desperate tone he had only moments before. “We need to hide somewhere while we wait for-”

Inseong emerges from the dark bar the moment sirens sound from down the block. He has Seokwoo in tow, the dark haired man’s arm hanging over his shoulder as Inseong drags him from the manic building.

“Is he hurt?” Youngkyun whispers, quickly letting go of Chanhee as the group follows blindly after Inseong, who leads them away from the bar as quickly as he can as he supports Seokwoo.

“Blacked out. I don’t know if he’s hurt.”

“Well, if he’s unconscious…” Sanghyuk scoffs, shaking his head quickly. Chanhee notes the sudden shift in his demeanor but chooses not to comment on it as the older obediently and wordlessly takes up the other side of Seokwoo, helping Inseong carry him away from the fray. 

“Where should we go?” The sirens mask Youngkyun’s voice heavily. Chanhee finds himself straining to hear him over the shrieking, and wonders if Inseong and Sanghyuk had even been able to make out the brunette’s words. 

Inseong turns, his face illuminated by red and blue lights for a split second before he furrows his eyebrows. “What?”

Youngkyun rolls his eyes. “I  _ said-” _

“-Here.” Inseong cuts him off, quickly stepping into an alley to avoid any police who may see them leaving the scene. Youngkyun grumbles something softly, but nonetheless follows the older men into the alleyway. 

Chanhee finds himself slipping back into his head once again. Now away from the danger, Taeyang bursts back to the forefront of his thoughts, consuming them completely until his fingers are twitching with the urge, the  _ need _ , to find him. 

He needs Taeyang. Needs to see him, hold him and feel his arms around him as they’d been that morning. He needs the other to be safe. 

Nearby, he can hear the group mumbling, but their voices sound distant. He can’t focus on them even if he tries to, instead finding himself sinking deeper and deeper into his worry. 

“Chanhee?”

“Huh?”

The younger looks up when somebody grabs him, identifying the comforting hand on his wrist to belong to Youngkyun. The brunette looks at him with wide, concerned doe eyes, his breath bated as he watches the younger. 

“You looked like you were gonna collapse.”

“I did?”

Seokwoo’s standing now, talking indistinctly with Inseong and Sanghyuk nearby. He’s still leaning on them, his legs trembling ever so slightly as if he can’t hold himself up any longer.

Youngkyun nods, slowly pulling away before sighing. “I’m really worried about you.”

“I just want Taeyang,” Chanhee whispers finally, his walls caving slightly when they come into contact with Youngkun’s concern. “I just need to know he’s not hurt somewhere.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Youngkyun tries, “if OTO took him, then they have no reason to kill him. They wouldn’t go to all this trouble for something that could be so simple.” His voice is gentle as he speaks to the younger; it’s his best attempt at being comforting, but it doesn’t make Chanhee feel any better.

“Then what if they’re torturing him!?” 

The thought hadn’t crossed Chanhee’s mind prior to his sudden words, and he raises a hand to cover his mouth, finding his fingers trembling at the power of the thought that had suddenly burst into his head. 

“Oh, my God, Youngkyun… What if-” he chokes out, unable to finish the thought as he stumbles forward. “Oh my God.”

There’s nothing Youngkyun can say. They both know it - neither of them know what’s become of Taeyang in the short hours he and Chanhee had been apart for.

There’s nothing they can do.

* * *

Chanhee screams.

He doesn’t know what else to do. He’s hopeless, unable to locate Taeyang, feeling completely and utterly helpless. 

It’s four in the morning now. He’d gone home alone, after parting with the others on their way to Seokwoo’s home. Alone, he’d entered his apartment, and for a split second he’d forgotten Taeyang was gone. 

For a split second, he’d convinced himself he’d heard the shower kick on from the bathroom. He couldn’t process that it was only his imagination, but instead he’d forgotten, if only for a moment, that the day had ever happened. He’d forgotten about the job, about Taeyang holding him on the couch, about the bar,  _ everything _ .

And, when he’d realized what he’d done, he’d broken down.

His fist hits the living room wall, over and over again now. It had been hours since he’d gotten back, and each had been more painful than the last as he forced himself to come to terms with the unknown fate of Taeyang.

His screams morph into sobs - uncontained and uncontrollable, and his punches against the drywall punctuate each horrible cry.

He doesn’t stop. Not when his knuckle splits open and blood sprays the wall, each hit causing a new wave of red droplets to splash colorfully onto the previously pristine white wall, and not when he finally notices it.

“Fuck!”

His entire world is caving in on him - he should have forced Taeyang to stay home. He knew something bad would happen, and he’d let Taeyang leave. 

He grows tired, slumping against the wall with defeat. His sobs don’t cease, only growing stronger with each breath he takes. Why did he let him go?

He blames himself. He knows there was no other option than to let Taeyang go, but he should have fought harder, been closer in case something went wrong,  _ anything  _ that could have aided in Taeyang’s escape.

But he’s gone. RF

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @seafic  
> CuriousCat: @seafic  
> Wattpad: @dawonsWP  
> Carrd: 0704s.carrd.co


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